You are growing,
But you are not a novice anymore.

I do it often, because you are worth writing about.

It stopped hurting when I accepted that you are gone.

There are three things that matter,
You, me, and us.

I see you some times,
You go about your every day,
We're strangers, that's all there is,
Yet for my amusement, you could say,
I live in the illusion I understand people,
I try to read you, in your actions,
In your manners, in the way you dress,
Some where I am also being judgmental,
Which is wrong, but I won't tell you,
So with this bad habit I,
See you go about your every day,
Think of how you might be,
Who you might be,
Someone's daughter or son,
A sibling, a friend,
This whole life of yours I do not know of,
And I dream of what it might be,
You become a fantasy,
You, my stranger never really noticed me,
May be I am losing my sanity.

Are you ready?
Ready for an adventure,
The adventure you always wished,
We can go anywhere you want,
Lying right outside your door,
A decision away,
Past a slight fear of the unknown,
Give me your hand,
Hold on tight,
I am about to open the door