Fingers to plastic
Plastic to glass
Glass to the world
Face reflected backwards
The sunlight a contradiction
Lense to the right
Lense to the left
There remains a glare in my direction
Strings of the instrument you pluck
Are shining like gold
Eyes glittering
In our time, we don't believe in luck
Open doors are slammed shut
Words on my lips
Words on her heart
How to speak, and with what?
Interpretations only reveal our biases
Things spoken
Understanding given
Passing strangers, in the worst of places
I ticked off the years one by one
Hope is lost
I am leaving
No surprise, but I'm the one who won
-Argentia
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