ellipses

Illusive ellipses cushion your actions.

We’re familiar with the lethargy 

and the punctuated triad shackles that bind us to infraction.

The fatigue of finding our feet before you steal another liberty.

We’re artificially belonging between flight and freeze.

Silent ellipses give your anaesthetic alibis the time to self-concoct.

We know better than to trust the ellipses we’re given to breathe.

Because we accept expired attitudes when we’re numbed and lost.

Ellipses are eclipses. At some juncture in the orbit we opposed,

the sun was sold to darkness and we became our own shadows.

© Mollie Mardel