Too Close Again

I keep chasing colors that, uh, only

fade when I'm close. Every time I reach, they turn to

smoke. Hands full of almost, pockets of ghosts. You said,

"Take your time," but the clock bit back. I keep tracing lines till

I fall through the cra-a-ack. Why do the bright things blur

when I touch them? Why does the gold go gray in my hands?

Every time I think I've finally found, it slips like sand.

I keep chasing colors that only fade when I'm close. Too close again.