Not wanting to go too deep.
Seeing the connections made.
And the pain that was paid.
That we carry upon our shoulders.
Bordering on progression and stagnation, but not wishing for it to stop.
To watch the clock with every tick and tock.
Like how a prick of a pin that is spread slowly across your skin makes you more aware.
Pondering and evaluating who to let in within your time shared on a trading of wisdom and poetic ‘hellos’ and ‘farewells’.
The one sir that stays a little longer.
Strays a little better.
Of what society pokes a stick at.
A soft caress against our contact list.
One more sip of conversation.
One more snip at castration.
The ones who have cut ties.
And the ones you needed to be cut off.
Will they stay?
When will they leave?
When do we say ‘goodbye’?
When do we avoid eye contact.
We all dream alone.