You can't stop Chronos from wearing us down
and wearing me out
with warped definitions of 'exclusivity',
so I draw circles and figures,
patterns of my domesticity,
and string them together into a beaded line
so we'll defeat the myth:
so you'll wear it and wear Time.

I think we may have found the escape hatch,
the trick to outsmart the ghostly cage:
this sense of melting time and age.

There's no way to hide behind what's geometric
because this is basic chemistry,
spelling lessons in anatomy,
and a gramatical error could
separate U and I.

I dare your molecules to realign,
to spread and travel toward me
in a dizzying sort of wind,
then rearrange them so I can be overwhelmed
by your ability to leave me  b  r  e  a  t  h  l  e  s  s .