It could have been you,
boy in the elevator,
who I was meant to be with.
But we never spoke.

You were reading a book,
boy in the elevator,
I was reading one, too.
But our eyes never met.

Do you think we have a lot in common,
boy in the elevator?
Do you wish you would have said hello?
Do you wish I had asked what you were reading?

There was something about your eyes,
boy in the elevator,
that made me dream of you.
But I don't even know your name.

Boy in the elevator,
I wish I knew your room number.
I would come knock on your door.
I would ask you on a walk.

Boy in the elevator,
I'm sad I let our moment pass.
Maybe you were the one,
boy in the elevator.

It feels like I’m stuck in an elevator. Neither going up nor going down. Stuck in the middle. Stuck in between floors. Stuck between levels. Not going anywhere. Just stuck there. Not moving forward. Not going back. Just stuck. I keep pressing the alarm button but no one hears. I’m alone here. Why is no one around? I’m getting claustrophobic. I’m banging the doors. No one is here. I wish I could get out. I wish I could go up. If not up then at least down. I just wish to go somewhere. I just wish to do something. But the doors won’t budge; the doors won’t open. Why won’t they open? Why won’t the elevator move?
I’m stuck in an elevator. In between levels. Levels being the stages of my life and the elevator, me.
And me being stuck here as I wish to move but I can’t. I’m just stuck not moving anywhere. I hope I move. I hope I go up. I hope I’m not stuck anymore in the elevator of life.