We were in the coffee shop on last friday afternoon

You were reading Emily Dickinson

Still I remember the title “ Unto Me? I do not know you”

I was stared down at you, confuse thou.

The next moment after my pouring coffee,

I was spinning around to the bumble bee

Through the hollow window beside me

I stabbed my eyes with your silence in the reflection of the pane

Your sudden glance bounced me a while

Then I took off my glasses to blur my fragile

Well, I am jealous to the book that u keep staring at

Why Emily keeps pouring slop while I love coffee with chat?

What kind of intention? Why we stay in this melting avalanche?

I am feeling outcast, rust and u still a reader

I want spinning a yarn while u stumble at a word of fade

U come with callous while I run as a decoy preacher

We were sitting together but with delusive love

Its like vis a vis without crave and desire

You present me a drama of silence

And I blow a gust of poems in rubble