Wildes Writing

Tim Wildes

I saw her at the bus stop, I walked towards her.

She regarded me with empty eyes-

her stance staggered like an unfinished roof.

            I meet her gaze yet-

she doesn’t meet mine.

Her shoulders afaced to me, she is a wall.

With her mouth agape-

 lips callously drawn apart as if by hands of opposing force,

too large to fit in her mouth,

it appears

there is a brick missing.

Art by Oetsuru