Yes your hand is colder than mine and frozen with emotion from other bitter winters, but mines are worn too. Calloused are mines from the harsh summers of violence and similarly to yours, rejection. When together, the world passes us by.
As all will say, your skin is lighter than my own. I caress your face and feel the life in it, the things you’ve done carefully etched in the smiling person I hold so dear to my person. The world prays us a pardon and passes us by.
People will say you’re so much more emotional than I am. We sit down in a place you knew since you were a child and in here there is so much memory and pain. Yet we relive all the moments together. I see you come to life, your eyes so vibrant, so deep in recollection, and I with my mind find more reasons to adore you. Hours, like the world, pass us by.
You tell me your have so much more to think about than I do. We walk the teeming avenue talking of the future. You speak, your hands flailing, so passionate about our situation; no other creature on that god forsaken stretch having such flare and exuberance. Having confessed myself to you I am silent and as we walk; the world disdainfully passes us by.
Sweetheart you find the weather so much colder than I do. You shiver and all I want is to make you warm again. And so there is no more talk of destiny and love, there is only the hug that can tell no lies. We take each other in embrace and time does not matter. I hold you close, trying to get as much of you as I can. Your face in my nape you leave your mark and the temperature means nothing. We stand there on that indignant corner immune, all the while watching the world pass us by.
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