She

I see her everyday, her skin brown as always with her curly hair in a tight bun. But I cant help to just wonder. Who she is, who she was, who she will be. Just stare at her in wonder and delight, inventing stories in my head about her. She was secretive and solitary, but she always put a smile on her face when she saw me watching her quietly. I could look at her for hours, imagining her simple life, in a world that I did not know about.

She passes me by everyday, and I just lower my head to indiscreetly picture her by my side, talking about her stories to me. I just know she has more than one to tell. Its so interesting to me, just seeing her manners, her way of being. I cant help but feel some kind of deja vú. Have we met before? Do I know you? Why do you hide your secrets from me? Your name its so intricate. Its like every letter resonates inside me, screaming her story! Oh, and should I listen? Isnt there a reason why she is so mysterious?

I could definitely talk to her, I know she would be nice. But would she be honest? I know she would smile and put her head to the side, talking with a face that resembled happiness itself. But would she answer if I asked her I wanted to know more? I wanted to hear more? The day would get clear and the sun would shine through, making her bright and glittery. But then, would I be able to focus? To look at her without seeing pure light? She is so pretty

Delilah, tell me, would you invite me to be your friend? Would you say yes if I asked to know you? Would you wonder if I loved seeing you everyday? Would you get scared and move to another place, with another new story to hide? Help me, I cant help to look at you and be amazed. I need to know you again, every hour I need to see you again. I need you to tell me your story and maybe, maybe then, Id be happy. So please, tell me, cause I do want to know. You know Delilah, I think I love you.