by smealek

my dear we’ve been on this ship

traveling, setting course, towards each other

however, as much as we wish, when our paths are supposed to meet,

we just pass each other without a glimpse

the shrouded mist; the vast sea; naturally persist

furthermore, we sure reach out

and hold, each other for another warming

this instance–our unfortunate calling–did not occur

and now we wish, speak softly, under breaths

only to ourselves, and the beautiful under hues of the setting

blues, and charming

we can only see beneath reflection

how clear do we meet ourselves