As I glance through

the words you left me

every now and then,

I shed some tears.

I revisit those words

to feel and

watch them grow

into the silhouette forms.

Some of these words

still grow into

a fledging flame

of our chemistry.

Some others turn

into a fluid flow —

the silhouettes

of our forms.

Then the joy of watching

a few start

the whirling

dervishes dance.

The gentle touch

of silhouettes

a swing and swirl

of the careless beings.

No one needs

to understand

the quiet language

of our soulful dance.

No one needs

to know

our existence

through the veil

of our words.

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