“Hey,
Who's
the cutie?”
“I
don't know.
She
lives across from me.”
-----
It's
that familiar face
Of a
stranger,
Each
sight,
Every
silent meeting at the bus stop,
Inspires
a yearning,
To
close the distance between neighbours.
How
could someone across the street
Feel
worlds away?
Might
as well be space-bound,
Or move
countries away.
Then,
maybe,
All of
this might make sense.
-----
“You
should talk to her.
It's
clear you want to.”
“Maybe
next time.
I see
her often enough.”
“Don't
wait too long,
you
might miss your chance.”
-----
It's
that quiet goodbye,
Moving
day,
Parting
ways with the familiar stranger,
Spent
too much time waiting.
The
last sight,
the
last silence,
The
heart-wrenching self-hate,
The
love at last sight.
-Zero
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