Tangents

I wonder if we’ve learnt to deal with grief. 

In these minute, miniscule steps of yesteryears, 

so little choices, so many repercussions, 

clawing us back into the graves of our misfortune. 

If only there was a way to navigate it. 

The unsurmountable despair that reverberates 

like my anxious heart beating against yours, 

unable to convey its fear of falling again, 

afraid of the possibilities that would confound it; 

uncertain of those veiled words upon a disarming smile. 

Never would I have left beyond the lines 

that bound us in this frail, pallid yearning 

had I known that a decade of detriment 

would follow us like the penumbral shadows, 

lurking behind the curse of our own desires. 

Maybe there is a way to consolidate and commemorate 

those little tangents of unspoken delights 

that took us all the way to our own little paradise 

and left us wanting for more, each time, 

trying to replicate through our own divergent ways.  

But no amount of solemn vows or wanton denials 

will ever be enough to take us back to that moment— 

the transcendental tunes of those ephemeral nights, 

cloaked between a coarse sheet of sapphire hue 

and the gentle embrace of two lost souls before dawn.