tell me when to stop
looking at you from behind
waiting for you to find me there
watching you as you silently
go to your usual cradle of solitude
breathing in the bliss
of silence in one corner

tell me when to stop
adoring such quiet scene
the hopeful scheme that
I am the one you’re seeing
when you’re staring at nowhere
or when you’re feeling my spirit
from the banisters of the stairs

tell me when to stop
those bittersweet sighs
the greed of being with you
when you’re not even there
that chest-hammering pain I feel
that deprives me of air
whenever you’re away
whenever you forget about me
or whenever you dream
of somebody else

tell me when to stop
assuming that you think of me too
when I think of you
for this is just too hard to bear
you are someone I can never have
so if you must say that one word
look at me and be gentle
then graciously break my heart

I shall stop
at once.

but if you must tell otherwise
then I shall stop asking this again
and I will never get tired
of thinking and sighing
of waiting and dreaming
and of stealing
some glances from you
*forever