still

a hole in my eye and you spill in,
all your hair and teeth within,
nothing but strands being blinked away,
me falling in to the hole in your eye.

still, a whole decade of time, thrown words,
a canvas of scrunched paper behind you,
still, my eyes exhale and still, I intake,
you have become this moment's breath.
still - in all rivers of definitions
and with regatta at backs, seconds into years,
still, and glasses filling, molten lava,
our anonymous history above our heads,
still in the clouds, waiting to fall or pass
to hillsides distant, where this heart would stall.

still, it passes, as it will always go,
it rains until the eyes are full, ripples in the river,
so we empty ourselves and I wonder still,
how many years until...?