Railway Between The Worlds Poem by Agatha Eliza

In my cave of reason, time is bent
turning into liquid;
it flows
drips
infiltrates
through a skin
that becomes
thinner, lighter
transparent
like an orb
animating a dark space
where bodies are powdered
in bright colours
of the dust
that falls off the wilted flowers,
the debris that shines
and descends,
crossing the pale sky
at night. We walk
on this railway between the
worlds,
two lovers
playing hide and seek
behind the curtains
of smoke, splashed
here and there
by a vague fluorescence
as ephemeral as your smile
as you're holding,
in the bosom
the brand new key
a dear secret leading
to a gate of concealed wonders.