chime in

He came in chimes.
She ate the words.
Lost bells, was the feeling.

Since then, at least until now, there was so much reason to resist,
For fear of staining the pavement with their shadows.

"This isn't about me", was what I kept repeating.

The facades of nihilism end up back at my front porch.

You insisted on praying.
I opposed waiting.

Clinging to the blinds
clutching branches with my eyelids closed,
Convincing myself that this connects somehow.
To see is to be blind.

To blend in is to severe the distance of difference, to the point of absurdity.