Idiosyncrasies, by Avery Krantz-Fire

I run my hands over and over

The well-tread comfort of

Lines breaks in the wrong places

I’m on the wrong wavelength

Missing what is not yet gone

And for all of the moments I have

Wished I could freeze up time

There are a thousand others

When I am sure it is frozen

As the icicles squeeze my senses

Tighter by the second

And now I’m staring into the eyes

Of my former self

Following the dotted lines

Like a poem that has already

Been written for me

Everything changes.

Everything will change.

But it already has.

Every moment, the cells in my body

Keep regenerating

A cycle as old as the world

As it spins,

A little faster

With every passing year.