Implosion

by
Jim Bronyaur / Laura Mercurio Ebohon

It was easy to fall




harder to realize it!



It all happened



at the center of those days



where time was a side matter



planning



strategic demolition



of these walls



brick by brick



layer by layer



a gravitational collapse



an implosion of senses



crashing stars in our sky



What is left now of all that noise?



broken pieces



without color



without texture



thin and fragile



like leaves in the autumn wind



they make no sound



floating restless



holding hope



of touching the ground

________
rusted rumble



chasing the time.



Each word –



another shot



another chip off a broken heart.







Stained glass eyes



distort the truth.



A one sided, endless cycle of love.



The love disguised for



Want.



Need.



Touch.



Taste. . .







The warm breath on your neck –



feels greater than the cold winter breeze.



The punch of reality.



The shadow that passes with the day.



A soft touch on your cheek –



feels greater than a bitter winter smack.



The punch of reality.



The shadow that passes with the day.







Can you catch your breath as if races from you?



Can you follow the sound of your own footsteps?







The door.



The entrance.



The life.



The words.



The heart.



The handle is so cold outside. . .



but inside. . .



inside is warm. . .



everything falls inside.