(T)here is this embracing,
flesh of lace… holding…
onto all now Here –
(T)here is No (t)heir.

No outside to map
(W)here we are;
We Sketch our patterns
In fabrics of fiction.

An over-Sized bed
Sleeps three together;
Seamless spannings
Seem (n)ever to touch.

 While lying aloneness
Peers out from beneath
Torn sheets that barely
Cover our skin.

Time tries hard
Talking to Itself,
Stitching numbness
Deafens the hearing.

Stop clocks reverse
All the numb-ers,
With a clever trick
wounding the bobbin.

 Can one precious thread
Simply fray away
Without unraveling
All our distinctions?

 Sometimes I walk through water sprinklers on a sunny day just to see a Rainbow!

Tpt 10/13/2016