#rashomon
Four hands, two souls
Holding, loving.
Building Babel with two languages
That’s how it ends
That’s the truth she tells
Two mouths, one truth
She loves me no more,
his woe goes deep.
Did you believe her?
Do you believe him?
Shred tears to nourish the land
On two knees and calloused hands
That’s what she said.
But all he felt was barren land.
Rust lines on telephone
No time for him, no — she loves to be alone.
Her stubbornness, those can’t be changed.
That’s the truth he tells.
An arrow straight to the heart,
No grace left to be held.
Is his version heartfelt?
Is she telling the truth?
Who could you believe?
Oct 16, 2025
Oct 16, 2025 at 12:08 AM UTC
I
The rain is pouring down,
There is just one umbrella, and
I choose to share it
With her.
The night is long, and
we don’t talk, but
I can see,
Through the corner of my eyes, that
She is uncomfortable and cold
By the violent brushing of the winds
that come too close but leave without kissing her left cheek.
A red omnibus passes us by,
Without stopping.
I hand her the umbrella,
And leave unarmed
Humming a familiar tune.
II
The rain is pouring down, and
He comes a step closer, to share
His umbrella with me.
The night is long, and
We don’t talk, but
I can feel his gaze penetrating my skin.
The violent brushing of the winds,
Makes me uncomfortable as
They come too close but leave without kissing my left cheek.
A red omnibus passes us by,
Without stopping.
He hands me the umbrella,
And leaves like the wind.
Humming a familiar tune.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC