Intrepid
There is a pace
to the time you
spend
looking out to take your
love with you.
That pace is dictated
by a clock
in your body
ticking down
to nonsense time.
That time in your body
meant to
spare the world
the pit
of your deep eyes
walking out of the room.
I went long,
I cut your intention
off at the intrepid
point of no return
and then I turned around
deep eyes, no time, lost pace.
It all fell down -
in a heap on the ground.
Because I let it.
I stopped caring.
I can't start.
I don't care to.
I lost.
