Melancholy  remembrance
of a good time, too short, too transient, 
too weak to stand the cruelty of the passing time;
of a bad time, too bad, too persisting,
too lasting that even time cannot wipe away.

Why did you talk as if you were answering questions?
Why the strained look on your face as if
you were a student preparing for a dreadful test?
All those mistaken views you have about me.
Blame the prevalence of stereotypes.
Blame the way we were brought up, 
having to negotiate between 
what we desire, what is allowed, and what is appropriate.
We are separated by our perceived image of each other.

Silence suddenly assumes mysterious meanings.
Actually not only silence,
misunderstanding, misperception, 
things we vaguely feel but don't know how to express 
all come up to declare their presence, display their significance 

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