*
Inevitably,
there's some part of me,
recalling the tiniest details of one's treachery,
yet - no capability of wondering those dead infested daydreams,
sure...
there'd be no swimming back through withered seams;

reflectional truths insists staying behind,
never showing slight - 
uninterested within sparring gratuitous light,
mine heart won't spill beyond a good bluff,
all to give is genuine love.