Gild

That day
All cotton-wool
Clouds and euphoria
Tongue-tied and three-year-old again
Wolfed down the ingredients
Of a doomed fairytale;
Sank into the slowsand quickly
And deeply
Maybe.
I could have
Loved you then
If we were really fleshandblood
Not just puppets on separate strings.
And now
Staring at the wall
Counting the cracks and
Wondering when they will meet
I watched as your shadow dance across my wall.

*peishan*