Two worlds
separated
by time,
space,
intentions.
Held together by words.
Words that have given up
on everybody.
Words that have failed miserably
to give up.
They find each other.
They embrace.
They dance.
A dance so hopeless
and yet under several layers
is brimming with hope.
A little mischief, a big secret,
these words, that dance.
I extend my hand, you take it.
We only have words to make love to.
---
All things dance like Biprorshee
