People like little rivers and tributaries

flowing to the sea

entwined in words with faces dripping in kisses

but I sometimes wonder about what the eye misses;

contact between humans

sometimes we go bone dry because of the shyness of our eyes

which flow with tears

with our fears

which ravage our souls with plastic aspirations

and metallic and jewelled frustrations

has the black phoned mirror stolen our souls?

Or is the water the constant flow of love enough to water our souls?