We are separated by two lines.
One is mine,
and the other is yours.
The ticking takes us apart,
and sometimes closer.
We follow our hearts,
to experience the seasons,
but ever so often,
the mind becomes the follower we focus on.
As the days go by, even years,
what moments are made of,
are just what we take of it.
Yours is yours. Mine is mine.
Till noon or midnight,
would we have that moment,
as ours.
That time, is divine.
There is something in the waters; faking blue but vast. As deep it gets, the deeper we could go. Danger in depths, risks away from certainties. It is a bet from comforts; a token spent, with wishes of
Oh save me. From the need to; take a second recall... feel a second rest... and receive a second report. But, isn't it what I am told? And I am just living with that. Like an apple going than growing,
I am touching my skin- an intimate gesture. They are one; feeling my chest is feeling my hands. It's a wraparound embrace. Have you seen a forest? It's so dense, with greens and wood. They may look d