LOVE Poem: Crash, by Selina Zha

You’re speaking, but not truly talking
to me. Side-lit by fibrous edge
sketching of your electric presence,
you look freshly branded
as if you are just a trick
I use to fool myself.

Ring pull in self-destructive mode
mimics the cry of a missile.
Correct me if I’m wrong—
you retract your fingers from the can,
blaming me for not being a pacifist.

You stay humble like a silent film comedian
believing action speaks louder.
Silence rests tonight upon our ankles,
pulsating its reunion to us.

Re-recognizing the city,
foreign footprints turn dawn into night.
Neon beckoning, pier leasing attire,
wounded lovers needing no sign
in the speeding roulette.

I kinda wonder: do we matter,
As electrons in this shared conductor?