strangers

the skin, it sublimates
wispy vapours from one’s skin
rises rises in a swirl in a twirl
and hovers above my head

if you saw me in the middle of the sky
would you recognise my face or the way i slouch in my seat
or the way i smell in the nape of my neck or the size of my feet

if we run into each other when we are old, and greyed
would you recognise my eyes beneath the cataract
or my body beneath folds of soft flesh and wrinkled skins

then, then would everything be too late?

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Author: c

my world, out of your reach

2 thoughts on “strangers”

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