I find myself among a million non-existent lovers,
rushing to their beloved or to the rainbirds, and
I'm standing in stillness, admiring the yellow line,
minding it beneath my mind’s shutter.
Where will I stand in the next
forty eight hours?
Confessions, tears, strangers,
heartbeats – the heart hoards its beats.
Elegance, surprises, adults,
let's go wild – in to the wild,
The moon didn't hide that night;
the sun won't ever hide my love,
the truth – once again –
beat the lies.