Apart
And when do these empty minutes
Become gifted tomorrows
Does the love from a crooked smile
Coagulate into a joyful tear
Can the touch from a veritable want
Blend into reformed breaths of a tilted gratitude
What purpose would ultimatums serve,
If it only knew what should not
Be taken for granted
When do these empty minutes
Become gifted tomorrows
For I count on the arms of postulated solitude
To breathe into me
To breathe into me
These empty minutes
©Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Poet Tacito | Year Posted 2015
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