We

We nearly missed each other.
We bent down to pick up the silver coins scattered on the lawn.
We drank bottles of seawater.
We waited for the sun to heal the wound by itself.
We were tired of knives.
Our bouquets remained on a bench made of gray stone.
We graduated and reincarnated.
Our hearts were torn into pieces of the Sahara.
We read fire.
We dug the grave and whipped tranquility.
We, too far, too close.
We stood at the opposite ends of a rainy alley, showing indifference.

We embezzle others' kindness.
We, facing such lonliness, become vulnerable as a collapsing dam.



Meng Qi'Ang is currently a student majoring in English and philosophy at the University of Pittsburgh. This poem was written during his study abroad period when he enjoyed being in a total isolation in Cambridge, England.