VICTIMS OF THE ROTATION Poem, by fikrioshin, at My poetic side

The silence between us isn't a wall

It’s the slow, quiet realization

that while I am watching the sun climb over the horizon

you are already pulling the blankets tight against the darkness

We used to share the same air

but now we only share a calendar that nobody cares

I check the clock on your side of the world - it's four in the morning

while I am spilling coffee on a Tuesday

I wonder if you’re dreaming

or if I’ve been ghosted of the script entirely

We are victims of the rotation

caught in the gears of a planet that won't stop spinning.

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