Our faces are human faces
Our hearts are that of aliens
Every person, a single story,
Star lights of a tumbling night
So many worlds of degrees
At such distance to another
Lament, that we can venture
Only so far, into the house
Of another’s heart
Only know so much
Of its dusty and corrugated eaves
Of the space besides its pillows
Of the things you’ve lost and gained.

Fingers apart, and worlds diverged.
Each mind an entity alone.

If I poke a hole into your wrapping,
Will out come a tumult of emotions
- Crashing through the dam gate!
Or, if you’re so stoic,
All the layers I’ll have to unpeel
Before touching
The naked skin.

If only I can live
Through all that you lived
See with your eyes the world
I so passionately know

If only I can say,
You are me
And I am you
And I’m the golden Toblerone
Buried underneath your house

Maybe only then
Will I find a softer world
In the caves behind my house.

I know you won’t read this
and I know you won’t care
but I will tell you what it was like.

It was blurry.
it was slow
but time was running fast.
It was dusty feet
and dusty souls.
It was feeling nothing
and then all at once.
It was hating you
to drown the urge of hugging you.
It was writing a poem
and post it
wishing you will relate to it.

But who cares,
you don’t.