Strangers

By Shreya Ghoshmitra

We are but lovers,

seeking comfort in lies,

deluded and disillusioned.

We are but sufferers,

with our voices,

committing suicide

and eyes, blood red.

We are but sinners,

in one way or the other.

Corrupt and tainted

and desperately ungodly.

We are but some lone strangers,

walking down the same lanes,

taking the same train back home

and going to the same bar.

But, never crossing each other’s path.

By Shreya Ghoshmitra