crossing

We are standing on the verge of the pavement: less than a few inches from the street, with the ugly cubic building behind our backs. Its shadow covers us and nearly erases from the landscape. Somehow, in this fading light, in this silence of ours – everything looks like a stage set up for the judgement day. Your cough synchronises with the hum of passing cars. It’s eons before one of us decides to move. Metaphysical veil is lifted. Now it’s just a night, the city, headlights of the passing cars and us. Finally we can cross the street.

you've told me to leave you alone

the air in here

tastes like salt

and I know

it's because

you were crying

with the out-of-focus

contours

and the fog

pouring out

from your pale

blue eyes

you look more

like a sky

semi-transparent

and kind of

absent

I breathe in

pretending

I'm at the

seaside