on the opposite sides

our eyes met,
defying this twisted perspective.

on the opposite sides
of the railway platform,
our opposite lives,
gauged by the riders

in this subway train;
afternoon rain,

water running down the walls
to the drain
to the railway
into the rat holes.

don’t say a word,
I will not understand the code,
of the disturbed sound waves,
your voice.

voice of Thin Silence.

I am talking to you sometimes.
most of the times.
all the times.

you are the eloquent
and me, – the stuttering


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