Let our meetings be awkward,
It is not like the familiarity,
Would make any difference,
It is not like I could stop myself,
From stretching a grin like a Cheshire Cat,
When I see you on the streets,
Forgetting for a while,
That you are someone I could only have,
In fictitious 3 am dreams.
Let our fingers brush,
When the deck slides across the table,
And I will force the ends of my smile,
To uncurl itself painfully,
Cursing under my breath,
Because it felt like untainted bliss,
Cursing, as I look at you,
To deceive everyone in the room,
And partly, to deceive myself.
Let this slowly die,
Even if it drags a part of me along,
Even if it takes all the time in the world,
Because I should be revived,
Shiny and new with a few polished cracks,
Ready to be auctioned to needy beings,
As a vintage piece of soul,
Weathered and worn,
With value higher than it ever was before.
Let months pass,
And I will still be across the road,
No longer waiting, no longer thinking,
But I can’t say the same about feeling.