the color of your eyes,
like your mood,
changes rapidly.
your gaze,
averted until my focus strays
into the distance,
into an occupation,
into the abyss,
finds and holds me.
your hands,
commanding in play,
reach towards
only to linger
inches away
at the specter of staunched tears
in the name of an unnamed child.
humor predominates,
spiced with observation
and memories.
the past is rich and multifaceted;
the present dynamic;
a future does not exist.
when you break my heart,
be it in a moment
or a millennium of moments,
does this life continue?
is there such a thing as global warming?
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