foggy bodies moving in silence
mouths that graze
lips that dare not touch each other
hands outstretched
who don't hang on others
lost steps
round trips in vain
stressed eyes
crossing glances
all this passes me through
i am only mist
planning over this city
do they see me?
do they feel me?
do they understand me?
did they ever
notice this cloud?
~d.s.
4:33 AM
YOU ARE READING
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
