She met him somewhere in the streets – desparate, self-assured, torn into pieces, and smiling – there was he.
The chill to her wounded heart.
And so she went.
And thus he went.
The night wrapped their exhausted soul, for was it one.
Next week he asked her name:
– We know each other better than our mothers used to and
I still know not your name.
Love needs no borders.
Feeling has no restrictions.
Came he into the night praying at her name.
Came she into the rush solving her minor disturbances.
And the swan of love floated in some distant waters.
They loved, they breathed, and yet they knew nothing of what's waiting the other one
at home.
They shared air,
they shared sheets, they shared now – as if locked on an island, alone, irresponsible, divorced.
They saw the eyes, the lips, shoulders and fingers –
and yet they were foreigners...
They ate voices, they drank tears and they heard not a word.
A love they call it.
A love I dare not to name it.
A love they never knew.
As if forced into
being only here and now they recognized no past, no future, no eternity.
They met, they were, they went apart.
What means yesterday, 10 years ago, a minute with someone else to you and me?
Whatever day
Whatever man
Whichever way
I know we can
I know we are
And yet we aren't quite
The book of our love
Still holds us tight.
