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.