Strangers

Drawing by Meena
Oil Pastels on paper

In the day's heat

I sought myself in you.

Strangers we were, still are

silhouettes in each other's eyes.

Remnants of a deflected time.

Monotony

Nonexistence is

claustrophobic.

1 fear remaining an outline.

Your warmth lingers

uncaptured,

fading into opacity.

1 know 1 will burn

till the fire burns in me.

From "IGNITED LINES"