III. They won’t become something internal
March 14, 2025 at 5:32 AM
They won’t become something internal.
They won’t become anything either.
One chilly November morning
They’ll wake up as unfamiliar people,
But now, while she smiles when she sees him
And while he smiles to her back,
They will run to each other through the snow
Even if snow would be black.
Let him enjoy her sweet laughter,
How she twirl hair on finger,
How she waits for him to come back,
Even when she knows he will linger.
This even may sound dramatic
Or remind you about Macbeth —
They’ll believe in their pipe-dream
Until end, until the last breath
Until tears ingrained in cheeks,
And the lungs are compressed with alert.
As he hugs her like the last time
Understanding, to the point of hurt:
That one chilly November morning
They’ll wake up as unfamiliar people.
They won’t become something internal.
They won’t become anything either.