Square was ambitious; ineffable,
Put together, a sharp conscious flame.
Four different sides sharing one wall,
Turning around was always the same.
Circle wakes and rolls over to Square,
A sunset of orange and purple.
A vision filled with pleasure and hope,
But he was Square, and she was Circle.
See, Circle was soft, caring, thoughtful,
Able to fit inside of Square’s box.
Square lets her in, no chance to escape,
A prison of wind and quiet raindrops.
Square’s box was a ground for perjury,
Walls and corners always in the way.
But Circle had no corners, no stops,
To linger and stare for half a day.
There is fiction in the space between,
Knowing they’d be lost with just one kiss.
Fragments of life pass through silent cries,
Seduced by the beautiful abyss.