PRESENTING
Monotony of Familiarity
Every morning, I part the curtains of the same window, casting my gaze upon everything, yet truly seeing nothing. You persist, panhandling on that stubbornly unwashed sidewalk. I continue to sip my overpriced coffee; it's a routine, familiar and comforting. A morning without your presence feels strangely incomplete - is it absurd to believe that your life appears ordinary while mine feels like an enigma?
Those eyes of yours, they seem to have endured more than my shoulders could ever bear, but society views you as if your shoulders aren't weary and worn. It's not me who's been handed the rotten luck, after all. We engage in this daily silent dialogue - you questioning what I can offer, me pondering what you seek from me. Both donning poker faces, none too effective, now oddly convincing in our silent pantomime.
Every morning, I part the curtains of the same window, casting my gaze upon everything, yet truly seeing nothing. You persist, panhandling on that stubbornly unwashed sidewalk. I continue to sip my overpriced coffee; it's a routine, familiar and comforting. A morning without your presence feels strangely incomplete - is it absurd to believe that your life appears ordinary while mine feels like an enigma?
Those eyes of yours, they seem to have endured more than my shoulders could ever bear, but society views you as if your shoulders aren't weary and worn. It's not me who's been handed the rotten luck, after all. We engage in this daily silent dialogue - you questioning what I can offer, me pondering what you seek from me. Both donning poker faces, none too effective, now oddly convincing in our silent pantomime.