Nothing else alike this

Us, hard to pick two others alike us,

But again, liking like this isn’t likely.

To find sweet closure in the improbability

And hear these words that meet us.

Sayings that needn’t always be syrupy to be it,

Whispers unsaid, yes we know what they mean.


Souls alike have flavours unknown

Even to themselves, for they have no tags,

Just a pith, a value uncountable that even

Us, the aptest to count it, needn’t do it.

For what more to ask for when all me, now,

Is who I’ve wanted to be, unlike me, alike us?

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