Traffic and Pretence

I avoid watching him gazing in my direction;
Because doubt keeps passing me by,
Making me feel like a wretched idiot
Stuck in traffic, acting like a citizen,
I pretended I didn't see him
But I viewed him through the gauze of my window
And we know we're both exchanging glances
Every now and then,
Reciting our own poems in our private reality;
Both in a limbo
Where we conversate through couplets;
Hidden beneath out quilts,
In an atmosphere so chaste;
That bores no traces of shameless love
Though we breathe only our guilt,
Together in a gesture of a morbid welcome
That ends when the traffic turns green
Where we stop when all goes;
Leaving our pretence

-PRK-