It takes time―
to brace up, after
the sudden meltdown,
casting a spell on you.

Sometimes I want you
to walk away from punishing
memories of a strange
solar eclipse.

I drop the crumbs
involuntarily, to pick up
my timeless hunger
of a nameless neighbor―
the Grim Reaper.

Wide-eyed irises smile,
when you touch the distraught face
of dipping moon, caressingly
in pain of quickness.

Your crimes are wiped
out, you rise from the red sea
like a sunken dream.