At First Sight


Heartache.
Cardiac veins drip onto the streets
like oil paints that
have yet to dry,
To satisfy.

Sadness.
Emotionless souls takes over,
blanketing our bodies
like coffins
at night.

Nothing happens
but something should,
smoldering anger underneath
our skins have yet to show
but will.

Vagrant lives head in opposite directions
but always come back to
one another.

At first sight.

Published in Having a Whiskey Coke With You Issue 10 April ’12

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