Unsayable

Written while I was listening to the Brambles' song - that's in the playlist above.



Your invisible stare
each time you part
echoes mutely in the empty
drops
of the dripping souls.

The 'could have been'
scares me
and city torpor becomes
evident.

Each drop of rain is a possible baptism.
All the sleeping faces
the gasoline fog
that sad lady besides
the brutal whimper of the trains
everything that did not be
is free.

We owe nothing,
we need nothing -
repeat the dead in the street
in a procession
Unsayable.