All the layers of fenced out moments
collapsed and died-
fell away like scales of lime, soaked overnight.
In a heartbeat -
was it yours, or was it mine? -
we make the trip.
That a retreat would be made,
was never considered a possibility.
I lapse back into old habits -
synchronize our schedules.
Your nap times
for some peace and quiet;
trying to reconstruct the present
from scattered pieces of me.
Keeping close watch as you hobble around
carrying your shruken self
as if a human touch would corrode,
and words may cause the mind to implode
Leave you in a weepy, messy mode.
You hold your chafed self aloof
only I have permission to see your wounds.
As you go over and over the same events
your mind stuck in one single groove
I despair, yet I hope
this cannot be permanent,
this new self, it's not you.
We will pull up those fences,
redraw the boundaries,
mark out the territory,
and send back into oblivion
this garbled version of time.