Words dry,
as souls do
as roads do
as clothes dry–
words dry too!

She will remember,
of course she will;
When her fingers touch
the black ink
spread on page–
spread on pages
she will remember!
When the water from her eyes
drops,
and distorts the words it touches,
she will remember!
There’s no way out.
And every time she does,
in a way,
I will remember too.

But will it matter?
Of course it will!

On the nights without light
on the nights with;
On the days without light
on the days with;
It will matter!
Just as existence does.
But nothing will change,
nothing ever changes,
nothing will.

So we move,
one in one direction
the other in another one;
Almost feeling each other,
almost touching each other,
almost…
always on the almost,
we sail as two ships in the fog
on a dark, dark night.

image by: Blerta Z.