Midnight Guests

Strangers exchanging glances
Everywhere, each conversation
They remind me which ones lost
Then, and the ones that returned

I hear mourning and delight
In the altered tone of voices
They keep clarity to a minimum
Only a few can hold a stare
There’s quite a number there
Hearts getting number and number
Overused greetings always sounding similar
Never getting quite past familiar lines
They speak slow, to help me understand
They speak fast, hoping there’s enough time

Strangers here again wanting to try
The road is spent, the rivers dry
They come as guests during quiet hours
When they start charging on the iron bars 
So many words to say, in between
Still undecided where to begin
One begs for water, he looked drenched
One asks for bread, I thought she’s long dead
Where did they all go after saying hello?
Yet, they all refuse to let me go

Strangers live in dreams
Nameless faces, shadowless
All wanting to escape the night
May rest find their souls as I watch
Disintegrating moments, again come to pass
Always seeking for something, the crowd
I was being passed into each scene unharmed
But they keep talking, demanding
I should know their story, they say
They’re strangers but they’re here to stay

See more at theprose.com/poeticasymptote


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