Shadows color the edges of your eyes,
Like you'd smeared kohl all around -
Over your lids, underneath your blinks.
Your cheeks a darker peach than your caramel skin.
Your eyebrows tree brown
As like your short, wavy curly hair is.
Two lines stretch from your nose
To the tips of your grin
That doesn't really look like a grin.
Are you even grinning?
Your lips are flat straight
Two bubbles strung in a straight line
across the pointed end of your oval face.
No upturned corners,
But why do I get the feeling you're smiling?
If I never looked closer
I'd think back, and see a smile on your face
The sun right behind your head.
You're so clueless,
But I can clearly see the curls, bends and flyaways
At the edges of the circle of your hair -
They're highlighted in golden light,
But not golden.
I've never seen your face that way
Rocking on your butt,
A sleeved arm
Hugs your knee.
A fitting black, leather,
A red top with see-through red sleeves,
Random velvet patterns on your reddish arm
That ends with a net of thick pink threads
Twined at the tip of the sleeves
Where it grows from,
Slowly untwining as my eyes continue
Walking on the threads.
The threads end, brushing against
The heel of your foot, and the golden strap
Of your stiletto.
A grapey color on your nails.
You sit on the gravelly ground -
The roof of some flat.
The blur of other flats
Just beside your left leg.
You're alone, yet not alone.
You hug your knee, and crouch towards your legs
Like you're feeling like a hermit,
But you're really not.
It could be
8 in the morning,
Or 7 in the evening -
Those times of the day when everything is colored
A mild, fresh golden,
And you get the feeling of a new hope.
Because it's either the end of the day,
Or the beginning of a new one.
I wonder why
I feel so peaceful.
Is it that I'm alone, yet there's no isolation?
Is it the way the air smells -
The dust, the ash, the smokes,
The pile up from the afternoons,
All cleared away?
Things can be renewed,
Is it enjoying the silence, yet thankful
Knowing that the silence was going to end?
Is it the knowing
Of the sun -
The rising and the sinking?
Is it that
For a little moment on the rooftop,
It's all mine?
Whatever It is...
Nobody to disturb me, yet everybody to
Yet not alone.