Peering out of slideshows about friendship,

Where did you find that song I can’t bring myself to remember the lyrics to?


Smiling out of photographs of a wedding party,

Where did you get hold of the novel I’ve always been asking you to read?

Sometimes I can’t sleep without having listened to hopelessly romantic love songs,

For that one milisecond my heart will want to jump out of the rib cage and be where you are,

Like a face on a cloud I’ve been noticing every other day for some days now.


With dust settling on them as if they were left out in the sun without a roof

With curly hair and a mischievous smile,

Like greek sculptures



They always keep reminding me of other people with similar faces,

As if I’m 50,

Having lived half of my life,

Having met half of the faces I am destined to meet.

My own,

A distant blur on peoples minds,

Mine is like a water painting,

It strikes you as of its a work of art.

But its only colors drying off of a paper in the hands of a pauper.

I am already beginning to settle like magical dust on the spaces I no longer occupy.


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