Talk

They dont teach you to float, or sink even
they dont even have enough air t0 breathe in,
They undo everything they are told to do,
They crumble into invisible, see-through
mountains of decomposed teardrops when told to
believe,
They are always there to see you fall,
sometimes even when you sleep,
uncomfortably nightblind,
They hear everything and speak in deafening
silence,
They have slowly learnt to glare
after losing their eyelids last fall,
They rustle like leaves
and befriend shadows,
They live your lives for you,
when you try hard enough to die,
They are many in number
and none in weight,
They often forget to eat,
while smoking your cigarette when you
talk to pretty strangers starved of truth
or tense,
They all look alike when you conform,
they slowly divide before you find faith
They are too old now to caress your life
into cold damp meaningful fruition,
They are breathing closer now,
to your ear because you are alien to your
malnutritioned pillow,
They are nothing and everything
as and when you choose to talk,
They craft your dreams only when they die,
one night at a time, as you
outweigh your respective wombs,
They can stop you from looking at others
and dismember yourself instead,
They can become you
you can never fit their shoes instead
They can sqeeze in opulent lighyears of space
between
any two minutes in your life,
They stop people sometimes,
from describing them in words
or death

I hardly know them

For

They look straight back at me
from the mirror