Tepid

Seraphic char veils a self absolved of pained actualization. Rearing its ugly head through a forced myopia. Things no better remembered than any other thing, how Monday keeps happening, neither presenting itself as a pattern nor a synchronicity, I have no blame to treasure. Light does not discern between realms. The mirrored echo chamber between my ears, known as its labyrinth holds refractions in shaky small fingers. The flashes escape against best efforts, I was a child trying to shield the rain from a dying dragonfly

Time spells I adorn as a charm on a protection bracelet serve their sentence in my ether. Maybe one day I will rip the cloudy form off and decide it rests with ease under my tongue. I will slowly absorb its mercurial drops, I will forget all Tuesdays. Consistency will lie no further than my dreams, occupying the same realm as the charm bracelet and its time spells. An evil version of a fleeting lover will say hello, and it will not matter if this is a premonition. My grown hands will protect the fleeting bits of light and pearls of innocence with a mother’s care.