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