a rope knot in my lungs
making it hard to breathe
so here and now I unravel you 
from the future I wove gayly 
with aching breaking
shaking fingers 
they pointed every which way
somehow always landing on you

we spoke in different tongues
with no direct translation
not between intention
nor word nor action 
nor want nor need,
this confusing correlation
of muddled messages
and veiled verity
 
you were my standstill
and I your stopover,
I pretended not to know
that I have always been
a childish idealist,
a pacifist too passive
but ignorance is bliss
do you really believe this?
 
healing is possible so I'm told
if with my strength I do not use
the illusion of you,
your twisted tongue
to seal the bleeding that's not done,
with limitless gaps 
will my sore mind manifest?
the will to unbind us two?