bliss station ~ poetry

oil-hand distance

I, through the bus window, see

a boy walking                            a girl walking behind him

him turning back                      her walking faster

him walking still                        their atoms

not having the space to collide -

& remember the distance between us
taking a body for its own & a mind nothing like ours,
but thems & theirs -

you must understand, words need to keep secrets

                                                                          for thoughts

                                                            distractedly leaping -

you lace-wrap an image so abstract
that you are lost, to me, a tear -

is divine humanness, a halo -

you're in the way of someone's light.

(the bus windows are discontinuous, each glance
a framed painting, I hope that I lost the ending
& not that the distance never went away)

~Ajay
26/8/19