They sit there side-by-side with uncanny glares.
The temperature in the studio has risen from emotional flares.
Awkward silence is ambient inside. Drops of rain are present outside.
They remain idle inside. Their stares fixed on the lively outside.
They are stuck inside where sound is the breathing of air.
Their makeshift emotions are the residue that leaves them bare.
Their emotions exposed like a translucent screen that's double-sided.
Breathing is tolerable, but minds are scrambled like eggs un-sided.
Slowly, functionality returns to their bodies like an ivy.
She turns slowly and hands him the missing key, esc.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem