Back in the day you didn't notice the sunrise, or even try
to stay up late in order to catch a glimpse.
Back in the day our kisses tried to sprout wings,
but could not.
They simply danced upon the eyelids,
fell into slits of our dogged eyes.
Back then you would say something is beautiful,
sit anxious in a one-second glance
and look away.

Back in the day I sorted clouds and bought syntax.
I became a meticulous machine you let your lens linger upon.

Now we produce forced love
in creased half-smiles, tucked away.
Our backs hiding daylight within this clasp.
Now we make our minds think it so correct,
share thoughts of disillusion with locked thighs,
grazed backs.

Now we gain callous, harbor completeness upon stifled emotion:
the blatant lack of compassion.