a silly schmaltzy scribble …




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




you may look past me, choosing not to see me at all, as I pick myself up from yet 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,


yet still,


I will be as faithful as the coming in of the tide … …