He always felt the pressure, with eyes
that weighed life only through the mind;
though not too strong or sardonic; he
listened closely to her apologies to others
for life’s unrelenting random decisions;
but dead still fatalism was the only
logic that he allowed to approach

He should have known, her languid eyes
weighed life only through the heart;
though not so delicate, nor sympathies
hopelessly buried in allegory, she
laid the dead pennies upon his eyes
while blood became clear because she
said so

But she knew how to laugh, it was
as close as she would come to pretending
she didn’t care so much; it was because
of days spent drowning in her own futile
black and white world; seeing life only in
the light of kindness and the darkness of
shadows begging to lift their veil

He laughed but only in the past; he spent
more time asking what difference does
any of it make; she smiled patiently, if
there was anything she loved about him
it was that what he denied of himself
screamed in agony alone at night because
he knew he was the same as she was