he's just another stranger.
another glimpse of dark hair,
another glimpse of sunkissed flesh,
another glimpse of chiselled muscles
with artwork inked onto his skin.
his eyes find mine
and in the space between us
lies the possibility
of unravelling the unknown.
stories, secrets, promises
weave together with the oxygen
like an invisible tapestry.
all the things we could be.
but we'll never see our tapestry,
because he fades into the crowds
and i fade into the horizon
and he's just another stranger
who stole part of my heart with one glance
and deposited it into the depths of the ocean.
YOU ARE READING
Small Talk
Poetry❝ we're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away. ❞ [ a collection of drabbles, musings and poetry: sometimes i like to pretend that i can write poetry when there's things i want to get off my chest ]
