Our paths cross often,
yet our eyes never met!
“Why do you re-read that book?”
“This is the book I borrowed from him seven years ago. It’s the only memory I have of him!” she replied.
“It feels like I don’t know you at all!” she complained.
“I don’t play the characters I write. Not everything I write is about me or us. So, don’t look for us in my writings!” the writer clarified.
What’s more sad?
in a crowded path
on a lonely road!
feel so real
Your unspoken words,
my unexpressed emotions,
“What if I don’t mean all of this?” he asked one day.
“Sometimes, living a lie gives happiness that no truth can ever give!” she replied.
What am I running towards?
Silence in me
Voices beyond me?
“Parties or movies?” he asked her.
“Stories!” she answered excitedly.