Boundaries are
meant to be,
I guess.
Why is that
a strict neccessity?
The time is spent
and of such relent.
To keep in place
what we can't see,
only kind of feel...
as if they're really,
really real.
Of course they are.
Our selves invent
what we can't say.
Never mind
they're in our way.
So much time,
and so much pain.
The loss of love,
my old refrain.
I think if it
were up to me...
I'd never stop
to reinforce
what must be left
behind, of course.
As I raise my eyes
with slight remorse,
I recognize
a kite.
Its plight
and...mine.
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