The moon is only a glimmer

of what she used to be

in the cobwebbed sky over us

 of a marijuana grey,

as the dawn breaks stealthily.


There are no pains,

only their distant memories

and numbed even more by the quiet night

I let them slip through my fingers like sand

and hope nobody notices.


A Wind chill through our words

 making them cling to each other in desperation

even as we remain distant

mired in worlds eons apart.


I hear our long famished thoughts gasp

incarcerated in the stillness

of rocks feigning indifference

strewn around us in abundance.


I think of us as people shipwrecked

 trying not to remember where once home was

and huddled together for what there is,

I don’t know, I just think.


This neither is reality nor a dream

just, I’m told, a secret place in between

a pause before the plunge ahead

or a song before silence descends.


*the setting is one among the many quiet places in HCU where we got together after a party.


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