A screen.
An act of bore
where routine dialogues are said for mere regret over discourse.
A set of characters dressed in their unusual appearances
and mock full costumes.
It's the same all over again.
It repeats,
repeats,
repeats until she repents.
I could only sit here and trace fingers over the glazed screen.
I've tapped,
slapped and
omitted all of joy i've got to get through it yet all in vain.
Her sound of laughter,
mixed with joy and excitement
she's feeling lingers still.
a hope for me to grieve.
The boy who she loved,
looked the same as he was 11 years ago.
For him,
memories came over rushing as the ocean rushes to gallop on shore but for her it was desertion of self.
She no longer remembers me,
the memory of her first love.
I wandered through her trenches,
found her secret yet
still i could not figure how she forgot the boy she called “mine”.
Particle by particle.
I began fading out.
He is reaching for her.
He is holding her hand.
I gasp if i could filled with life
but i turn to rust
and resign from life
as she slaps and shouts at him for the first time.