the illusion

it catches me totally unaware.

eyes carved from night sky,
it is the first yet.
hours lost to the study
of something that’s purely imagined.

the second is equally subtle,
written in autumn and winter.
days now are lost here
analyzing things better left alone.

last is a favourite memory,
by turns wistful and reminiscent.
time would fade it but
that can’t happen just yet.

these illusions are everything remaining.

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