I HOPE SHE KNOWS

I hope she knows

how it feels

to be mere inches away from you.

– how your eyes disappear into slits,

when you smile over silly things

and laugh about random musings.

I hope she knows,

how you arrange your things.

A mix mash, hodge podge of

random stuffs thrown together.

Organized chaos, like the thoughts inside your head.

Does she know — you sing (badly)

over the silliest love songs.

Or how you prefer your tea?

I DO.

And then I realize,

that I was never yours,

and that you were never mine.

And that is the greatest tragedy.