Typing out loud

  I thought I would prick your rage someday, Only to find tears underneath. Till then, we will find an edge— Sometimes in someone's eyes, Other times with the support of someone's shoulders, Or in the warmth of someone's lips. Things weren’t so; I only wanted them to be so. So, I guess I will find my constants in my love for the colloquial tongue and the intimacy attached to it, and my world in someone else's eyes.