You came, I saw, you tried to speak
It was nothing but the usual manner in which we meet
“What a pleasant surprise!”
“Oh, I was just passing by.”
An empty glass with droplets that
occasionally quiver,
With whole of history and parts
of broken love.
Two warm chairs. A cold room.
Us, and a curious goliathus (filled
with love) between us.
“Do you see that phosphorus sky?
It reminds me of your pure naked back.”
“Staying any long? If not, I’ll cut you some slack.”
A grin escapes your mouth,
For our hatred toward each other traces the history of our
love.
“Some cigarettes?”
“Oh sure!”
“Would you want a hug?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
The blistering truth shows up eventually,
And I find myself half-asking shortly,
“So. What reminded you of me after al.?”
With a laugh that comes as an afterthought,
You lift your hand mid-air only to drop it with some self-spite.
“Sometimes, I don’t even remember what you look like.”
“And yet even in those moments, you look beautiful.”
And so
Twisted amidst past and present, stuck in another attempt at a conversation
Twisted amidst past and present, stuck in another attempt at a conversation
Until
I decide to risqué looking into those glowworm eyes of yours
And that very moment, realize, that time is nothing
But
What passes between me and you.
What oozes, bleeds and exudes through us
When we’re together. And when we’re miles apart.
