Whispers to the iris Soft caress on fingertips
Love affair of the mind Obsession blooming from ink.
Non-existent voices Speak from afar Hearts start pounding Your words, They surround.
Round the maze we go, Chasing that faint echo Quicker we run, Do not look at the map, No skipping forwards.
We stand upon a cliff edge,
No closure. No peace.
Back page pushed us to the brink.