'you're right
it does become you.'
the words came out
in a faint mist of cold air
while you wore disgruntlement
with more beauty than your eyes could hold.
and I thought to myself,
yes, you're right,
we are dying too bland,
in dry shreds stretched thin,
I with alien seeds spread in my land
you motionless, in a tempest, like if you were never engaged.
As I look at the gleaming band surrounding the whole of your universe
I realized the scents of all our cities
had already met within us.
reaped, now we just mark time with impatience
until we're alone with who we've become.
Eila Mahima Jaipaul
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/their-breath-made-feathered-mists/
