Our time within the moment waning,

follied statues, built for breaking,

aching stomachs starved for words our

longing eyes had long forsaken.

Both our breaths in bitter silence,

a last betrayal, akin to violence,

found us (pawns to mortal vices)

drowning love with

still defiance.

Dueted in a soundless scream our

gaze belied clandestine need, but

unseen, a predetermined,

poem,

titled:

‘Could Have Been’