Opus

New wave love

I haven't believed in god
since I was four. I am a child
of late-modernity, Neizstche had
proclaimed God to be dead long
before I was born. All existence
is meaningless and everything
I do is in repetition of what I did
yesterday, pushing a boulder up
a mountain like Sisyphus. Even
love? Even love. Our conversations
go in circles, how was your exam?
have you eaten? call me when you
get home, take care, stay a while
longer and we can kiss. We are like
Didi and Gogo, at moments we
forget who we are and who we are
supposed to be, are we friends, lovers,
sisters, brothers, comrades, or simply
strangers who wouldn't remember the
shape of each other's faces in a year,
only a stain of a particular colour will
remain as memories of this time
when we were an us. His will be a faded
maroon. I think mine will be submarine
yellow but I haven't asked. We don't
believe in god, and yet these days
of late nights I find myself praying. I don't
know who I pray to, or in what language,
if I even use words at all. I only ask
to keep him safe.