He only possesses the power to shuffle, sift, and weave through life.
The very shirt on his back seems to hang.
The words he speaks frantically attempt clinging to the ear of a passerby.
His heart is cold as he sinks
Limply into his living room sofa.
Even now, he hauls his many transparent faults.
She only possesses he warmth of persistent observation.
The words he spoke clung to her ears and seemed to echo.
She likes gifting him presents of many sizes,
He likes unfolding small things but keeps the larger ones wrapped.
The meek continue to admire the reckless but with
A thump and a sigh he fell asleep that night.
— The End —