Our black holes

Your arrogant whispers,
Vibrate my ear drums
In sheer conceitedness,
I lean in, to reduce this
“Black hole” between us.

This “black hole”,
Indicative of
all sorts of complications,
Exists quite often,
Quite visibly. 
Neither you labour against it
Nor me.

Dancing, screaming,
beating their chest.
Your words are,
Just hanging on to your
Chapped lips.

Expression might not be,
Our repertoire.
In the meanwhile
Inch by inch,
Shoulder by shoulder,
I’ll fill your “black holes”
You fill mine.

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