No two ways to love
No two ways to hate
No two passions fervent
ever the same.
The contraption that traps
the eternity limitless
into tiny fragments
of hours twenty-four,
never the same.
No today that is
like any yesterday
that has been
or morrow that will be.
Repeated to no end
humdrum, mundane
Laced with numbers
and names selfsame
Making one find them
days, dates, moments
not unlike
the one gone by
or the one not yet
As the truth slips away
right under the senses,
memory slipping through
fingers of unlived moments
Sighing in Déjà vu
as I ruminate
"I have been here, before"
When there is
no sigh, no breath
or a moment
Like the one
that has been
When there is no before
that would ever be
like any after
that ever will.
Now is only once.
Now.
Never again.
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