It's not love, but the lack thereof










Which makes us what we
Eventually become

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Who knew, slavery would be so desirable
Mine, of you; yours, of me.

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You aren't too sensitive.
It's not wrong to have compassion,
When it's them who lack it.

-

When you own yourself
Even the impossible feels
Ordinary.

-

I see her silhouette flicker past your eyes
And try to find myself somewhere there...

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Even the ordinary with you
Feels extraordinary

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Love is not in me, or you
But in the air between us
Touch through screens
Smell through calls

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Miles apart, yet not far
We see the same Sun
We see the same Moon

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It's a tragedy, how
The purest love stories
Remain etched in two hearts
And never see the light of day.

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....

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