Constancy

What does it matter, this time and space in-between?
I walk lightyears, a few thousand miles are but an instant.
Truth, it sets free, but riddled with doubts,
I’d been free falling in your ether of suspense.
So yes, I shouldn’t have had to ask - what, to you, I truly mean.


What does it matter if it’s a curious synthesis?
I deal in the singular, rarity is just another reason for persistence
But if I was left to waver, is it so unfathomable
that Past must've notched a deeper offense?
& I know these wants - never could they sustain on shaky feet.


(And of myself, now I should ask)


What does it matter if this hurt, it goes unseen?
I shouldn’t have let slip from conscience
If reasons were forged with recurring sincerity,
you’d have owned constancy of my vehemence 
For I know if I choose to go - I'll always go all in.


EntangleDesigns

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