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.