These glances make acquaintances, subtle and momentous. Of all places, you chose a drenched park bench to seek warmth. There's a buffer between us, a small inclined field of human absence where our coffee cups touch. They have our names in grandiose misspelling. A penny for your name?
Another evening, I'm on the opposite side of the road. The street light sneaks through the crowd and falls on your trembling arm. Those lifeless fingers so catastrophically puppeteered on ivory, to cast a defunct melody, reverberating from tinted windows upon my ear. I'm reduced to a standstill and you recede in perpetuity. A penny for your voice?
A vision for it's difficult to differentiate from dreams. The bed leaves a small clearance from the wall. Your silhouette, looks down this finite chasm and the darkness fails to hide those strained veins in your eyes. They drip all that was unspoken into that narrow space. The wall is so cold and aloof as it touches your cheek. A whirlwind dissipates into spilled caricature on the wall, imprinting your mute screams into a flower of cracks. A penny for your story?
I'm blank, a sudden state of zero. My impaired vision falls upon loops, dots and commas, pages of punctuated entropy. For a moment, I am not learned because I cannot comprehend the contours of your faded thoughts. But, I trace every deep 'y' and every soft 'm' until I cut myself at an edge. I adjourn beside you, tightly pressing on my bleeding thumb. You speak after a millenia. Our ruse turns to ash that the monsoon woefully collects. Our pale faces, so remarkable profound that our existence dwindles to a handful of intermittent incidences.
We spot each other across roads, tracks and rivers, with holes in our heart. Hence, we become strangers separated by a cold wall, whispering in our daze, penny for a thought?
Another evening, I'm on the opposite side of the road. The street light sneaks through the crowd and falls on your trembling arm. Those lifeless fingers so catastrophically puppeteered on ivory, to cast a defunct melody, reverberating from tinted windows upon my ear. I'm reduced to a standstill and you recede in perpetuity. A penny for your voice?
A vision for it's difficult to differentiate from dreams. The bed leaves a small clearance from the wall. Your silhouette, looks down this finite chasm and the darkness fails to hide those strained veins in your eyes. They drip all that was unspoken into that narrow space. The wall is so cold and aloof as it touches your cheek. A whirlwind dissipates into spilled caricature on the wall, imprinting your mute screams into a flower of cracks. A penny for your story?
I'm blank, a sudden state of zero. My impaired vision falls upon loops, dots and commas, pages of punctuated entropy. For a moment, I am not learned because I cannot comprehend the contours of your faded thoughts. But, I trace every deep 'y' and every soft 'm' until I cut myself at an edge. I adjourn beside you, tightly pressing on my bleeding thumb. You speak after a millenia. Our ruse turns to ash that the monsoon woefully collects. Our pale faces, so remarkable profound that our existence dwindles to a handful of intermittent incidences.
We spot each other across roads, tracks and rivers, with holes in our heart. Hence, we become strangers separated by a cold wall, whispering in our daze, penny for a thought?
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