We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.

There was a time, you
were a sad song
and I spent evenings
and midnights
staring at your lyrics.
They made little sense,
sometimes none at all.
Yet, it would be
melancholic
when you played,
so I gave up and sat
with you, watching
and talking about
all the black
among the white.

A year later, you
found a new audience,
a new city,
and I,
I found my evenings
dark
and lonely.
It was
all of a sudden
too black
and very little white
and I hummed
a song that you
used to love.

We still meet
at times,
both smiling
but you always
have somewhere to go.
The days you don't,
we sit, like we used to.
My voice
becomes a sad song
that floats in the air.
I talk of the past
you can't seem
to remember.
I look at you
and try
to find you.

I’m not afraid to lose.
It means I tried.
I have the right to choose.
Push shame aside.
Wipe away these blues.
Faith be my guide.
I’ll always pay my dues.
Let insults slide.
They won’t be able to bruise
this woman’s pride.

Does anyone have a soul I can shake hands with?