Viktoria Jean

Nobody knows we were meant to arrive in somebody else’s life
for reasons so obscure we speculate,
and plunge into the same mistakes,
putting a name, a cause, a title, a status allowing them to stay.
I’m listening
to your favourite overrated songs;
button sunken from the days you’d hit replay.

Plugged into my iPod under my umbrella in the rain,
I’m mistaken for a trespasser –
“ma’am I’m sorry to say
we’re closed for the day”.
Apologies to the most important people
are hardest to articulate.

We overlook –
Miscommunication, misunderstanding,
misinterpretation, mistakes
mis-en-scene
mishaps.
Drafted apologies.
I have my music,
I am okay.

Micro-managed music libraries, neatly filed, documented, genred,
starred biases;
playlists with names we (only) appreciate.

Useless music loops through my headphones,
caught in spirals
unable to escape,
muffled by the downpour
outside my

Splintered spokes of useless shelter
then carelessly discarded by the sidewalk
as I watched you
Ice-cold raindrops.
Your halo bruised from standing too long in the rain.

Can’t I simply like your smile,
the way you toss your head as you turn to walk away.

XOXO
silhouettekiss

P.S. It is so cold in Tokyo my lips are blue
Why on earth didn’t I bring an extra coat…