In a Split Second

Speak to understand, understated. 
What would understanding beget?

Proceed without knowing a would 
from a could, oceans have chosen 
for us before we design our fate. 

What gives meaning to a memory
if it fades a away? Sway ahead. 

Don’t mistake silence for a kiss, 
but if I don’t err, could I miss  
what never was? Puddle's stains. 

Our journey is offset by instants.

The hesitant second split in two
as if the eternal could speak too. 

If I had cried because my instincts 
had split a second, half in a relief, 
the other half haunting in regrets,
I would never forgive my mistakes. 

Wallowing spreads me slow, puddles
inside, mud doesn’t let me forget. 

Hear nothing, choose nothing, kiss
the silent, safest to speak against 
gale heartbeats if everyone’s asleep
near a foggy anticipation, we're mist. 

Will you sleep near the mountains
steep? I’ll await near you to gain
from an omission, the permission 
to reach me from a memory grin
unless the gale has shifted again
toward a fate that's often mistaken.