Politeness should never be comprehended with less attentiveness. “He said”. I could see the destruction he was going through. All the words he once yelled with his heart and all the flowers he burnt knowing they won’t grow again in the yard. I could see everything and perceive the feeling of getting hurt. With his hands still, even after hearing unusual, I could sense the change of colour.
“Where did you find yourself?
In poetry that was once jotted down, but never disclosed. In vacancy after giving everything and getting nonentity. In a world where acceptance was demanded not bestowed. In brutal replies that were genuine and needed to be heard. I was attentive all my life, politely. “He responded”.