The Same

[erik]

All these lines are filled,
how much closer am I now?


for the diadic taste and literary enhancement,
I'll let my imagination run rampant,

winters outstretched frame,
as snow is as clouds of falling security,

my fingers like dry cement,
I lament possibility,

all around this bleak isolation,
we appear but aren't the same,
the one who holds my adoration,
chooses to be away,

how close are we?
how foolish am I too not realize with every page
the void increases.

[juan]

Nice poem.