We Become Strangers Again Poem by RIC BASTASA

We Become Strangers Again



your hands are cold
and so are mine
the night is not as interesting
as what we want to say
i look to the sea
you look to the mountains
when i begin to say something
you come up with more words
to this dismay
i begin to look for fireflies
there are none.

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RIC BASTASA

RIC BASTASA

Philippines
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