mimesis
I scream
Anya Hindmarch.
































































































solemn faces only lose in earnest
































































































































































































Imagine the space between us filled with unspoken things,
a shared language of longing, a quiet understanding.
The moon, our solitary witness, casts a pale glow,
the same silver light kissing your window, I know.

In the quietude, I’ll hear your heartbeat echo in mine,
a silent promise that whispers across the miles.
Maybe silence isn’t absence, but a different way to say,
“I’m here, thinking of you, until we meet again someday.”

para Isa