turquoise

times have changed since
only the night and the storm
could quieten the birds’ song;
now the traffic lights blink,
confused by the ways
of the people with
second-hand heartbeats;
their clock tick tocks
steadily towards
an eternal hiatus;
the trees watch over,
wise and senile,
sidelined like all
the sunsets that
far too many
of these broken souls
shrugged off their
jagged shoulders,
never knowing the agony
of those cursed with
involuntary invisibility.
the lights are bright;
our silhouettes might
touch, if only for a moment,
and you can tell me
about your crash landing
into the theatres
of masked apathy;
everybody plays a part
to love or not to love
to find or not to find
a heartful of comfort
in sense and sensibility
in this world of half-hearted
turbulence; let’s dive
down a waterfall;
you can abandon me
halfway to the ocean.

the sunsets may be tangerine
but our blinding souls
shall remain a wintry turquoise.

T. E. Pyrus

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