Blind woman sat
Modern fingers
Tapping the young
Furniture. 

A pointless encounter
That afternoon,
With the helium addict. 
Once just

Strangers, both just
Simple allotments
From their wind-shielded 
Neighborhood,

They now sit
Both fragments of
A confined choir, affiliated with no acknowledgment,
Raw betrayal coursing through their veins.

Weeknight congregations,
Projects until the ninth,
Gradually altering
Their forbidden theory.

Impure lady, 
Some may call her
Bitter as black tea:
Renounce him, they will.

The morning has come
And today is now
A Saturday with two meanings. 
Whom's will you believe?