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i tired of you
by sunset. did i see you there,
even distantly, on the bench
where you sat as still
as a mannequin in a shop window

spared only a passing glance?
what void lies beyond
my footstep, my present,
my compassion? — silence, an endless breadth.

did you see me there,
really, with ink stains
all over my hands?

a hypocrite’s guise,
a bluffing man’s game.
your loss, my gain.

now, i see you there
as if anew. i see,
and i despair.