A brooding player, a sensitive charmer
A lost butterfly, a moody talker…who is who?
One up, one down…who supports who?
Both soaring occasionally in brief moments
That seem snatched from the grasp of reality
Which leaves a pitiful void for what has been and isn’t any more.
Where does your pain end and mine begin?
Do your eyes start where I finish?
Or do my tears flow from where your smile starts to fade?
Do we drown each other’s silence…or noise?
Two times lonely doesn’t make company
Nothing but momentary comfort
That sometimes is all that there is left.
Would you term it empathy?
Would you call it a bond?
Never mind, I’d say
Just call it parallel monologues.