To be just a face in somebody’s yearbook,
tenderly remembered by some eyes,
or maybe softly forgotten.
To be a passing stranger in the street,
Filling the background as if following
The imaginary script of someone else’s life.
Coexisting in pages or between the lines,
in multiple existing storylines.
Playing a loyal friend sometimes
The bubbly crush or the terrible villain
once or twice..
Whatever the role..
..we end up just lingering.
Craving that funny, ephemeral feeling.
We end up just lingering.
Yearning to be part of
A day, a page.
A chapter, a year.