She had that look like she's not there, deep bright eyes piercing to the ground, and he wonders, a strand of recently combed hair, black as fresh tar, scratching across her pale brow and cheek, and he is teased, a little notch on the corner of her pressed lips, round and soft like a juicy cherry, terrifying, pretty, he's shaky, he could swear he saw it tremble, "she cries for poetry" he thought.
Black and white, an anonymous face in a tiny frame.
"You idiot" he whispers,You must be so lost to see your love in a square of commonality.
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