As I was talking to him – mostly about the color of the tea I was sipping, the color of the dark blue sky and a whole host of sweet little nothings – it occurred to me in a “snap out of it” moment, that he was listening and yet definitely was not hearing. He was looking intently into my eyes, as if searching for the lost bloody song within its infinite black hole depths – unwavering and precise with his gaze….
I could not help notice that his eyes has watered down, and his puckered lips had petered down….both of them distinctly moist….
The poet in me detected a tender floundering moment of togetherness that had appeared out of nowhere….and as my voice slowed and slurred to accommodate this unexpected( and equally uncompromising) examination….I could not help but view for a brief few seconds, a glimpse of what simple and uncomplicated mutual fondness could possibly mean.
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