I knew everyone thought that we lost the words because we didn’t have time to align and everything fell out of places. That at one point people grew and fell out of love of each other. But after years, I looked back and asked myself;
Is it possible to miss something that was never really there?
Snow storm, outside
Snow blizzard, inside my head
“I’m still waiting for the network… Probably it’s because of the snow.”
“Well, don’t worry,” he said, looking through the window.
“So, tell me, what are you doing in this city?”
Snowflakes, unseen because they are tiny
“Well, it’s working. I’m going to call this number to make sure it’s working.”
“May I save your number?”
“We’re closing in two hours. Do you want some coffee? Recommendation from a local.”
“I have things to do this evening.”
“Oh, I understand.”
“But can I call you?”
The storm has stopped
Snowflakes on the sidewalks
The snowman has gone, melted by Manhattan city light,
the infinite siren, and the sigh of yellow cab drivers
There were times when I felt like riding a powerful wave, a wave that went against the current.
But then this wave I was riding was made of guilt; both from remembering and failing to;
and along the way; it got bigger and swallowed me;
until it exploded into myriad tiny drops of loneliness;
and I exploded too
waiting for my time to return;
to become the rain against the city light.