you bypass them for a split second when you're rushing to the bus stop but then you turn around and their face is printed in your mind and you keep thinking about your future with them until you reach your destination and think about how crazy this all sounds.
you see them in a restaurant, you keep flicking your eyes from your menu to them, they dont look at you though and you do everything you can to get their attention, you walk past their tables, you keep staring at them hopefully they can catch your eyes but they dont and its the end of the night and you dont even remember their face.
but now this stranger is you. you look at yourself everyday in the mirror and you are stranger to yourself but you cant love that damn stranger because holy fuck they are not like other strangers, you know them yet you dont.
why is it that we tend to love everybody who we don't even know even for a second but we cant bring ourselves to love our own fucking self? why is it that we are a stranger to ourselves? why is that every other stranger other than yourself if loveable?
why?
YOU ARE READING
iris ; poetry
Poetryall the things i never said. a collection of short poems, phrases, advice. growth. love. balance. © 2017, Disha.
