what is it they're after?

what do you do when a once flaming affair is reduced to a nod walking down the street.
as if the leaves were suspiciously watching for any familiarity.
as if the winds could whisper what once was.
as if the twirl of my hair or the scratching of his arm were secret signals
like a pitcher to his catcher.
what is it they're after?

0 comments:

Post a Comment