To write
defies our very nature,
the little that we’ve left to lose–
to think in dying words
that never manifest,
that echo once and suffocate
before we ever had the chance to choose them.
Solace lies in constant ambiguity,
the freedom to have never been,
and thus to feel at ease to take
the risk to think
this.
Until,
mesmerized
by life’s distraction,
finding words that perfectly
enclose and simplify it,
we define it, so there’s nothing to diffuse.