The Music of Chance

They met by chance. His alarm had failed.
He was late for his train, so he caught the 8:15.
And one week prior, she’d crashed her car.
No major injuries (that bleed), but holes were left in her.

Now without a car, she sat on the train.
He sat opposite, as few seats remained.
She sank in a book (it) distracts from her pain.
He opens a book, both covers the same.

They read inside their own minds.
Their knees touch, abrupt, in real time
eyes arise from words, to face to face,
to glimpse (and) apologise with grace.
And then retreat to the safe page.
But when eyes met the glance would stay.
Become a stare. A moment shared.
A future born between the pair.

They broke into smiles, exchanged pleasantries.
Eyes lowered to books, then acknowledging
that they read the same and they loved that same,
Reflect on the train what they hate the same.
They talk to the end and pledge to engage
each other again, same train, next day.
He’d catch the late train throughout that whole week,
just to be with her, just to hear her speak.

Soon their time apart reduced to withdrawls.
Every free moment led to phone calls.
Gone from our world they built their own walls.
Lost in the bliss of it all.

Soon all they knew, was me, was you.
Their views askew. As one they grew.
It’s boy and girl versus the world.
All those opposed were wished to hell.
Hell.

They took the chance of the legal bond.
Swore ties for life, and before long
the seeds of contempt the familiar sows,
would not relent. Their quest to expose soon shows.....

....maudlin in the smiles. The fears of the brave.
Contempt in the kiss. Revolt in the slave.
The bad in the good. The flaws in the rose.
Details (once) overlooked, now are wounds exposed.


They read inside their own minds.
Never touch. No lust in their time.
Eyes don’t rise from words. It hurts to face
the hints that they have since replaced
their words with, when they ceased to say
the truth. When clear went shades of grey.
Their love removed. Their trust abused.
Now every move’s perceived (as) a ruse.

And their time apart’s reduced to relief.
Reduced to the art to sneak, like a thief.
To reclaim a self. Recoil from the world.
That which they’d created they would dispel.
But tenuous links they’d forged from distate
of much of mankind just held them in place.
They’d not separate. The familiar sows
seeds sprouting to great comfort in what one knows
(in what one knows).

And it was beautiful how, despite contempt for each other,
They would find solace in their hatred of most others.