never in the mirror

it looks as though we have fought the cold war, hands beneath our thighs, shivering in contempt.

it looks as though the sand has settled beyond shore, eyes set aglazed for glimpses we tend to fond over.

it looks as though the long miles have become closer in distance while the moon rises in resistance; and smiles pasted with our eyes downcast, hands held but we chase the past.

it looks as though the glimpses we catch are never in this mirror, but in the eyes of the rest waiting for approval to restore the heartbeat in your chest.

it looks as though the walking dead never died but they abide their time to whisper their goodbyes in melodies they can never seem to rhyme.

it looks as though they are still here somewhere and the glimpses they catch close the distance between time.