Adrift

When replaced with robots, clones of Adam, better than we ever believed. No need for Eve.

Faces planted to screens, conversations with the dead, no longer held obscene. What you mean to me.

I’m a place, adrift in celestial rifts, spent grace on worldly things. More valuable than you.

What the Curtain Hides

I want you to save me. Gone for a moment, to live in eternity. Looking-glass-self. Become someone else.

Strange to see you here now. Wayward travelers spanning lost freedoms, now one with the world. Closing in.

Small enough to see the end.

Comparing how I felt. All of those precious moments competing at once. For a single moment.

You’ll forget me when I leave this place.

This curtain hides me well, drapes around my wrists, where they once became fists. Tired of the relentless beating of my own defects. Much softer around my neck.

Hidden until eternity comes.