Silently one can love,
Forlornly shrouded in thoughts,
Drunk on imagined lies,
Awaiting the heart's reply.

Yet hard it is, at times, to keep
the little bonds of friendship alive,
To reconcile amidst the whirl of doubt,
And hold the initial impulses in sight.

And now it’s neither friendship nor encounter,
We just pass by, without a glance.
How painfully time heals us,
deepening the loneliness of weekdays.

No longer friendship, nor a chance to meet,
We pass by, as strangers do.
How painfully time heals our wounds,
Leaving us in solitude’s rue.