Fractures

10/9/2023 i know i am capable of loving i can feel it when i’m in love whether it’s with the warmth of a hand in mine, a colorful leaf falling from a tree, a connection transcending through the windows of our irises, the feeling of being held, contained, anchored the way we finally collapse into a synchronous dance and fade into foggy energy, colliding and mixing but how am i supposed to know when and what kind of love it is? and how am i supposed to know whether it’s real? can i trust you? (following text should be upside down) can i trust me? there’s a lot of internal, machinery dissertation wanting to follow fragments of heat, yet stay hidden it’s so fleeting i find myself in other people it’s like looking in the mirror but the mirror keeps cracking or maybe my vision is just a bit blurry like a picasso painting limbs torn off and stitched back on in mismatched placements gears turn inside my chest, mechanical parts move desperately, monotone and all i want to do is reach through that reflection and touch my hand on the other side instead i just keep banging my fist against the looking glass an endless maze of lost reflections, pained stares and my fingers don’t feel like they’re attached to my body only numbness when the skin tears i only vaguely notice the blood dripping from destroyed knuckles shattered shards of statued appearance a voice echos in the lull of a warm pulse is it possible to reach you (following text should be upside down) if my feet never truly touched the ground?