Boggled

here is there,
and there is here
nowhere good and nowhere clear
Shalt you find another winter's kiss?
She wouldn't know.
She only listens,
There is nothing else but what is not.
Nothing else that can be fought.
Taught
Distraught
Lost
In stagnant roses.
She hated roses.
They always rot.

Time is nothing, and yet it flies.
But doth thee know the reasons why?
I hath no other thought in mind.
Only that this is but a stop-
No, not a stop.
A place?
No
No
No