Love of the loveless
this is a sordid example of
an ordinated union, flitting
with the sad splinters of imperfection;
He looks at her,
but she's just another woman
down the street to him,
he can even read her eyes,
doesn't even know their colour
his presence is choked by
the boredom of her presence
When she sees him,
her soul begins to sleep,
at the hearing of those dry, withering,
wavering vibes that his still being elucidates
They are silent origami models,
creased and folded by the hands of
their parents imposition
in the house,
was a monochrome flow,
stale and silent,
they never even cared for each other,
the rings were hypocritical on their hands,
a symbol for the artificial marriage.
By Kakraba Afful
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