Sunday, 30 November 2014

Silent Pout

Silence is the desert of language
I met you there
I loved you there

Three seasons of silences lay between us now
But I remember
That single moment
When you shaped your lips like a pout
Almost to say something
As I was leaving
But stopped
Just before it shaped a word

Since then
I’m searching in vain
Like an obsessive linguist
Every language
For that word

Though at times
I wonder
Was there a word at all?

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