caesar's charades

sinking feeling, still seeking salvation
yet finding nothing in your own wake
except
a crystalline silhouette
masquerading before sunrise
beneath the fragments of a stranger that you once called by name
perhaps a ghost to pirouette upon the horizon
amongst
the illusion
of feeling awe-struck
and captivated
unravelled, thread by thread
to find our thoughts war-torn,
and held captive

fear not the sun,
it did not deceive you
look not to the moon,
it cannot provide refuge

this hole you dug from the flesh pressed firmly
against your finger tips;
how uncanny it truly is
to be a hostage by your own design