Streams of consciousness,
Trapped in a panoply of celluloids
And abandoned plastic films,
Catch my eye.

I share them on the big screen
Where silent silver stills breathe
And glide across skylines
At midnight.

They inch closer to me.
The starry-eyed starlets seal
The gulf that lies
Between our eyes,
And fill my ears
With secrets and whispers
That I've heard before
In theatres, studios and cassette stores.

And they arrest you under their sepia glares
To inspect your indifference,
'Cause earlier I saw you share
The same movies with someone else
With a giant bowl of popcorn
And accoutrements unnecessary.
But I should've been warned
That not all movies have a happy ending.

Shifa