Lost in yesterday

Comfortably cornered
in the confines
of confidentiality,
convicts or confidants

i quiver with the
errors of my ways,
and days and days
of black fights
pining for delights
never to be in sight
or out of mind...

my perspective gives
spectacular hate
towards myself
away from you,

true,
but small speckles
of our being mean
much less than we can see
and still we scheme.

now i read
some phrases
shedding dim light
on phases between
life and death

and yet
nothing relates
to our fate,

uncertain destiny
of you next to me,
or not.

without thought
i rest best
and confess
i press
my cheek
to where your chest
used to be.