And me, I was probably a wallflower, surreptitiously looking at you from afar.
But as fate may have made it, we met, we talked and digress into a seemingly endless conversation.
We trace down the lines in our veins and discovered the many similarities we have.
We found the words and the metaphors that have long been missing.
We perhaps had a grasp of each other. We ignited a flame, and boy, it was epic.
For a moment, I didn't want it to end. I didn't want us to stop talking.
I was left wondering what it feels like to walk with you on a normal day.
I was left wondering what it would feel like being held in your arms.
There are so many letters that I have stopped writing long before I have sent it to you.
The unfinished poems, the awkward Hi and Hello along the hallway.
The ten-second word exchange, the unsent and ignored messages.
All the plans, the gaps and the in-betweens.
You see, I am not good at this. I am not good at second-guessing.
I almost always halt the fire before it have even heat up.
I am an exit sign with a light that never goes out.
And I realized, you are a glowing radiance, out and about.
And so, it will end. Our story will end before it had even started.
Before I have even told you how I like even the tiny details I know of you.
Before I completely fall without your plans of catching me through.
Maybe that's how my life is, and will always be —
a redundant case of "I like you. You like me. End of story."
And yet again, it was just another sad ending.
