I followed that path to your door
the worn edges meeting the green blades of grass
the puddles hiding the pitfalls that trapped you
it was all I could do not to dig in the mud
not to find the moment where it all went wrong
It seemed so easy, and that's where I started—
I was going to rewrite your story
willing into existence a time machine
glittering silver and bright jewels
just like a child would have imagined
a machine that would wield my words into life
One that would change your sight
provide you with the gaze outside of your own fantasies
Not sparing any heartache, but giving it meaning
a topic of conversation between haves and haves with even more
shifting to something that better matches your boisterous enthusiasm
But that cannot be
time doesn't shift for us
cohorts of different eras
the laws of time and space won't buckle for us
and will continue to remain in this parallel
