(while you enjoy your soup of the day)
I’m walking down a path I’ve lived before and
as my legs give out, so does the center of my chest I
inherited a phlegmatic soul, from the cold world around me, still,
I tread on, eager to melt the ice in people
like you, who look past me —
a vaporized spectre made of thin air —
that caresses you without ever possibly
asking to be caressed in return.
Never for me has been a warm body in sight,
but so I’ll keep looking for sunlight,
with all of my might,
and my eyes shining bright.
Author: Iffah Suraya
