a solitude together

For others they were formless-tired-smudged-kohl eyes, and incidentally it were your words that breathed life into them.
It was once again, while- as it were- ranting about how helplessly self-obsessed we are at times.
On a second thought isn't it what the lone and desolate world of reasoning permits.
I know what you might say to that.
You'd say that I was a bipolar double agent on a Counter-espionage team.
And then I'd laugh myself silly.

Some few months later,
Some few hundreds kilometres away
I wake up bleary eyed,
A week's worth of kohl hounding the hollows of my eyes.
And I lack your precision (at wiping all the stray smudges off)
I look for traces of your breaths trapped between the unsuspecting hyacinth.
Perhaps the oars shall strike upon some thoughts wondered aloud.
Or
Thoughts left midway.
Maybe the damp, sultry wind gives me enough to subsist,
Until the next time, when you untangle them somewhere near my ears.

'for crying out loud you are still the closet anarchist I left behind'

'isn't that pretty much ALL the luxury that solitude provides,
Or maybe,
My predilection towards loneliness is just an excuse
for having you all to myself.?'