the lines between us
never seem to dry.

nothing ever
straight forward about it

the way they coil around us
like barbed wire

that never sets itself
into concrete. suspended.

defunct. perverse.
so tempting

to cross
over and over again

like the river Styx
in search of lost love.

if only we could learn
to stop

looking back
for each other.

maybe one of us
will survive

long enough to leave
impressions without scars.