[p] conversation

 

It’s been one of those days. Again.
Those cold, dark lonely days. Again.
At what point do I wonder… if this is all there is?
One man in a million, one daydream in a day.
How will I meet her if I’m too scared to say?
To open my mouth, my arms, my heart,
I’ll never reach the finish, if I’m too shy to start.
Standing at the bus stop,
The sun just peeking over rooftops
A woman stands beside me. She’s beautiful.
But I won’t say a thing – I never do. We wait in silence.

 

Perhaps the only thing more empty than a lonely thing
Is the dark space a lonely man leaves
When he faces the sun, stops the light
That has travelled through time just to be broken by him.
Him. Him who doesn’t see this; too brash to notice
All the little things.
Perhaps that is my jealousy, my jealousy talking over me,
But I deem it unfair that he should simply stand there
Vocal chords in his throat, working lips clamped shut
Waiting at the bus stop, waiting for both of us.
This woman, she appears. Settles to his right
Her shadow, soft shadow, falls where she obstructs the light
And while the two lonely people stand where the light shone
We shadows are connected, overlapping,
We are one.