After six years of holding on to the seams of your long departed ghost
and after failing at love elsewhere
It feels like forever and never at the same time, the possibility of a fresh love, in the life of a person so young where time is always fleeting and every moment feels like a milestone.
The stale faint scent of attraction creeps upto me, the longing to glimpse at a face unknown, to create a story out of the kind lines of his face and the messed up hair.
To screctly rejoice under the feel of his eyes on me and finding meaning in the randomness that connects two strangers, convincing myself of it being a deliberate coincidence.
Inventing, after a long time, storylines for the beginning of an unfathomable romance.
I feel able enough to dream again.
Maybe it’s just a distraction but then so were you, from love or it’s lack thereof.
It could be nothing, something or everything and it’s the mere possibility that excites me.
I feel your intensity just as fervent as it used to be but,
it comes in fragments now and also more like a fond memory.
So, I simply revel in admiring him.