"With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;"
- *Romeo  in  Romeo  &  Juliet, Act II Scene II

I remember fondly;
all the little things, the little details.
everything is like a photograph with a little note written beside it,
documenting the moment in its beauty, treasuring, savouring
what was seen, what was said, what was felt (fluttering inside)
it's never going to occur again.

In my photographic memory, it's all too familiar
the arc of your back
the glistening of your eyes
the way you stand and poise yourself,
ever in the stance I'd knew you be in
because I've observed you so many times before.

To speak in all honesty,
I was very shy.
Thoughts dashed about my mind like
people dressed in work clothes, rushing for the train;
embarrassed flights of thought that
like a bird, fluttering here and there,
not really staying at one place, and never seeming to leave.
What thoughts? oh of course,
You.

Made up scenarios and talks that never happened, but I could envision
1) Your smile
2) The way your eyes would look into mine
3) The sound of your voice and
4) The satisfaction of finally having your attention
seeking only you, because that's what I truly want, you know. Nothing else matters if your presence wasn't here, and I'd still check from the corner of my eye.

Alas, when what anticipation has been held in me flushes out as
you appear before me,
I force away all those silly thoughts...
please, am I really in love with you?
I pretend again, that we're just good friends,
and to enjoy the moments (how little they may be) left with you.

so that when I get home, I'll be miserably happy
that the last time I saw the organic, solid, truthful, existence of you,
I had been happy.

(and no doubt, heartbroken.)