cigarettes that burn for hours
weeks
days
it's not the walls of this house
or those in yours
it's the same things that reside within them 
and even within those.
it all looks so sunny
in reminiscence
the ribbons in my hair
and a ray of glare
shining through
walk in the park?
she said. 


when they all look like you 
well not all
and your smile, that too
just sometimes
its never like in the movies
the much awaited run 
down a pathway
or to the middle of the bridge 
into another's arms
sometimes it's a crowded place
and the sea of people awkwardly shuffle 
around both of you
or it's empty, and hair flails
that sound of jackets ruffling
the rest of that cliche bullshit
that more resembles 
something that might and probably won't happen
i guess though, sometimes 
when you think about it
it's nice. 


maybe
i'll meet you there
when i'm strong 
when communication has changed
and the pattern of your thoughts
although mine remain the same
and you might say
let's go, 
a walk
in the park
again.