most of the time it does not matter,

what i think, what you think

as long as no request is being demanded,

the why, how becomes like harmless trinkets

wrapped up, shelved, put away.

icicles melt, an impact, then trinkets

become daggers, explosive on contact,

what i think, what you think

become abrasive, scorching, heat rises fast

entangled us – unable to break free from solidified

molten iron. our differences locked in a stalemate.

eager to break free, eager to devour, eager to let up

if only the other party was more cooperative!

but herein lies the void, that big black hole of containers,

shelves and wrappings keeping what is real underneath.

trinkets woven through the years, accumulating, shut off

from the tranquil world of skin, superficialness, air

when the alternative is flames, ignition, sparks, or left

to freeze out, still heart has no beat

and so we mimic life, we mimic love, we mimic all those

trinkets we hold dear, kept deep within

for becoming entangled means our bubbles popped.

of what is, what was, what transpired, what inspired

washed down the drain – it’s who we are as persons

grasping on tightly to memories, logic, passion

seen through the road walked, stomped, bled

it’s my life.

it’s your life.

of course we do not see eye to eye!