Such a wish
to express this cry –
this plea that bounces amongst
the reflections in those
two salt tears. The reaching hand
that falters. That quivers in the
Many have been seen from afar,
watched, studied and desired and yet
somehow it has all been a farce.
A thin veil.

No memory is complete, yet
sectors remain.
Some to haunt, some to fear
some to enjoy…
Like mist on a mirror,
it all fades, gradually.

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