— a poem of potpourris.

The Passerby

I’m all the fixtures you could never catch, all the terminus you hardly reached.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Lying together
beneath the twinkles,
you talk of a long-awaited blip
where things finally fall
where they should’ve fallen.
But then again,
I couldn’t see it through.

Sitting across, candlelight in front
Hands wrapped in mine
as I trace every line.
Every year we return —
plan with such care
only to realize
I no longer feel the same.

Standing in the hallway,
faced with the truth.
Both eyes wandering —
retracing what’s imprinted.
But then again,
I don’t remember you

Hence we move forward
floating through, moving about.
Years from now
I’ll be seeing you.
lying there with someone new.
You may catch a glimpse of me
but then again,
I was never there.