The flickering lights on the pavement
The wall narrowing the sidewalks
The springy vines creeping over the wall
The pedestrians waiting for the cab
I do not see them all.
The yelling buses ruling the highway
The song of 90s being played on the bus
The cries of passengers shoving and whining
The song inside the bus that never stops
I do not hear them all.
His touch, the stern of his grip
The tickle the tip of his finger can bring
The softness of his lips gently brushing mine
His whirring breath that made me feel alive
I could still feel them. All of it.
He is the ghost inside my head
I am his faint shadow, weaker than a withered grass.
If love is just another photograph on an album
Of sad and enduring memories
I’d rather burn it; but love is not.
Love is pensive. One day you’ll wake up
Seeing him the happiest person on earth
The big smile on his face will alienate you
From the window, you will want to touch him
But all you have is the plate glass between you.