conversing
with touch
of nostalgic
candles' scent
while
lighting
each and every
candle wick
he and she
smile.

knowing what he
said
it pains her
though it mustn't

knowing what she
said
it never gave him
hints
of what she feels
and of what's real.

how surreal
could she
and he be?

how long
should they
stay
as obscure partners,
unlabeled, unknown,
friends' zone?

how deep
could their
attachment
or
love be,
just to cope with
her confusions
and his fluctuations?

how will she say
what truly she had
felt
after he let go
of those hands
without even
holding them
before she
understands?