breaths caught in air
tumbling between
parallel lines
that strain to face each other
untouchable space where
ocean and sky touch
sliding into descending progressions
of crumbling notes
we melt off
the script into
ripples filling outwards
outwards
till they reach
till they can taste
only air in the horizon
evaporating
like a rip
in fate's flowing robes
a skip
in time's running show
round around repeats
in grooves flowing out
of revolving records
we find
ourselves in the fiction between
almost and
perhaps
what friction
sparks a fire
a silence
