We thought that we loved each other,
time said we didn’t even if we wanted to.
We are souls temporarily relived of aloneness,
the one that chains us to our character flaws
and are a dry riverbed in a landscape of austerity.
Costly food, polite music and bored waiters,
chit-chat about wine, avoiding looming pauses,
the strain of niceness showing in our taut faces.
Fearful and defenseless,
not daring to be ourselves,
now that we no longer can shield behind an e-mail, or phone.
Wanting to go back to solitude we dread,
but where dreams are our reality,
doomed to follow our hearts
irrational demand for perfection.
We are a river that has lost its nascent
and dries out before meeting the sea of love,
a wound in the background of lost chances,
because of a heart’s intimidated silence.