Alvida

When reality turns around and refuses to leave,

And half-forgotten dreams wave clumsily from afar

Which way does one turn? 

Two cups of lukewarm coffee

and a long-shadowed afternoon.

Overwhelmed with memories 

of longings and stirrings,

I barely speak; while you

remain serene, mirthful even;

Wishing to stretch the moment

and drag it into my night,

Insanely aware of the your urge to flee

fiercely holding on to a glimpse,

a brush of hand, people we know,

tastes, hobbies, relentless chatter;

How many words does one need
to recount the solitude of one's soul?

And when it is time to truly leave,
Which way do I turn?