She meets the nihilist,
What makes him most romantic
Is his non-confession,
He doesn’t read existentialists,
Doesn’t know the word, nihilism,
He simply floats through everything,
Taking the moment unconsciously
In pure experience,
He simply grasps
Only what’s in front of him,
She teeters on his edge, the Void
Deep in his breast,
Always takes one step back
One moment just in time,
Avoiding his vacuum, his oblivion,
His sheer happiness
With anything at hand,
Like ‘being there’,
He just rambles on,
And their almost-kiss
Does become something spiritual,
Two halves of the same coin,
One complementing the other,
Yet neither heads nor tails….
What makes him most romantic
Is his non-confession,
He doesn’t read existentialists,
Doesn’t know the word, nihilism,
He simply floats through everything,
Taking the moment unconsciously
In pure experience,
He simply grasps
Only what’s in front of him,
She teeters on his edge, the Void
Deep in his breast,
Always takes one step back
One moment just in time,
Avoiding his vacuum, his oblivion,
His sheer happiness
With anything at hand,
Like ‘being there’,
He just rambles on,
And their almost-kiss
Does become something spiritual,
Two halves of the same coin,
One complementing the other,
Yet neither heads nor tails….
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