That book, it was a burn of my youth’s embers
Without filter I recorded each numbed emotion
I may have left my older verses for now
But through my pen its flow is still in motion
As we head our own ways, down our own paths, could we retrospectively comprehend?
Through timeline splits
But until then
Let’s walk back to the fork in the road
and reminisce over everything we’ve seen
Until we magnetise and intertwine once more
I’ve placed myself in debt from borrowing the past
And now my headspace is clustered
Regrets tied around my wrists
And the future, always slipping from my grasp
Holding omens blurring into many timeline dreams.