Maybe,
with the insatiable desire to be as fulfilled as he,
she despised him for the vulnerability under her skin.
Maybe she had smashed his words to pieces,
couldn't swallow its kind.
Maybe she just wanted to be alone with her despair,
at the back of the line.
The day quickened its pace and passed her by,
but it made no difference to her.
Because she did not have to be him,
obey to his clear vision.
To embrace the indistinction of her elusive mind.