Strangers

 

You have grown silent

Although you talk more now

Like you have to scream louder

Because of the distance

 

The stitch which held the fabric that was us

Has come off now.

And stitch by stitch...slowly

The pattern is disintegrating

 

Matter of time

Before it is threadbare

And the threads,

untied...loose....free

fly away

on the winds.

 

And we become strangers.....

Once more.

-- 

Rhea