Collapsible Rhythms

Toes tap with an imperfect passion,
slinging fingers in perfect melody,
a soft touch, twice,
then more.

Sensing opposing forces,
inevitable is currently arriving.
springs shrink and contract,
like they’re flirting,
with the possibility of expansion.

The dark circle outside the bright,
perfect circle, perfect moment,
there is breathing in-between,
where the glitter that is skin,
shines so bright it hurts.

So, Rhythm collapses,
and the mind, doesn’t.