At cross roads,
often delusion and
weariness,
stop us more often than we want.
The signs are flimsy
and unreadable, yet we believe so fiercely in them.
We observe the heart
beat , the mood swings and read too much.
We reach cross roads,
lonely and lost
The soil between our
fingers crumble like dessert crust
But it was never so
fertile as the time when we reached it together.
Our fingers intertwined
and always afraid that the other would pull away.
We’d fall and shatter
and no one we’d hear us
Our cries are silent
like small villages’ nights,
where booze put
inhabitants to sleep.
We all wake up
forgetting, oblivious by choice
“I’m an insect now”
We tell ourselves,
“I’m an insect now!!”
Mixed with chuckles of
men hiding in barns, clucking their jugs together.
The flags fluttering
making tunes
only our ears could
hear
We dance and sway
And convince ourselves
that our days didn't fleet for nothing.
I will love you always
Even if our nights
stretch to cover our reality
Even if the crossroads
will bring me to you no more.
Once I chose to turn
your direction
Leading me to an
unknown place
Where my weaknesses are
highlighted
And my charm is as
valuable as a barren land
Turning for labor to
fill in the minutes passing by
And no one has the
desire to keep me.
Maybe it's the reason
we cross
To find somebody to
keep us
The talentless, the
desireless
The awkward , the
unconfident
We love with contempt
We clutch viciously to
air
throwing away bits of ourselves
At each crossroad
There are traces of us
Traces of our boredom
and potency
of unglamorous age
Of clumsy feet and
adolescent sweat
With images undeveloped
for no one would press the shutter
