​a silly schmaltzy scribble … 



you may fly away ever so far, leaving me wounded, tending yet another fresh scar.


you may look past me, choosing not to see me at all, as I pick myself up from still another fall.


you may not know me, our gaze destined never to meet, while I dream of our paths crossing, the lucky happenstance of seeing you walking down your street.


you may not know the feelings that I hide, tucked away neatly on the inside, still I will be as faithful as the coming in of the tide …

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