In Transit

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Poetry
Willfully silent
and opaquely 
beautiful

Like a love affair
that fades 
wordlessly,

A two-act 
word play
just hinted at.

A fateful page
the reader doesn’t
want to turn

—Lest it blankly shine,
so devoid of
meaning—

A blurry sentence
smudged 
on the mirror

—If only 
they could
read it out—

Drafts left behind
while I was still 
in transit,

Silent tunes
I hum 
to myself,

Unwritten plays
I, by heart,
remember,

—And will 
not dare
enact—

The Author

Woman. Floaty. Attached. Dettached. Sudden. Note-scribbler. Citizen of the world. Travelling to the moon and back.

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