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Beneath the metro’s twilight hum,
I stood where all the strangers come.
My voice was low, my fingers tight
Around a phone that lit the night.

She spoke — the girl I’d never met,
Whose voice had warmed each day we’d yet
To bridge the miles from screen to skin,
A year apart, but close within.

A village boy from Bengal's rain,
I came by train, through fear and strain.
She hailed from cities far and wide,
A nurse, on duty, time denied.

But just today, for half an hour,
She’d slip from work’s unyielding tower,
And meet me by this concrete gate,
Where pulse and platform danced with fate.

“Gate Two,” I said. “I’m here. Just wait.”
She whispered back, “I see you. Wait.”
My eyes spun fast through faces blurred,
My chest beat loud with love unheard.

Then there she stood — not far, but near,
In steps that wiped away the year.
I thought, “She’s tall.” My throat went dry.
But closer now — we matched in eye.

She didn’t speak — just took my hand,
And led me through this foreign land.
Across the road, beneath the sky,
Our silence hummed a soft reply.

She bought me food — a chicken thigh.
(Though she eats none. I wondered why.)
We sat, she watched, I tried to speak —
But time was short and words were weak.

“I have to go,” she said at last.
And just like that, the moment passed.
No kiss, no vow, no sweeping song —
Just fingers held a moment long.

She turned and walked back to the light,
A nurse again in white and night.
And I — I rode the metro home,
Still feeling less alone, alone.

That evening, after duties done,
We typed the things we’d left unsung.
And somewhere in that crowded thread,
She softly said, “You held my hand.”

The clock moved on. The dreams, they stayed.
A new day dawned, but I replayed
That half an hour — a fleeting grace
When time stood still, and I saw her face.
This poem is about me meeting my lover after a year of our online romance - just half an hour, one held hand, and no words wasted.
Kitty Apr 2021
It's in the way he smiled at me when we first met
Nothing special about his smile but the chipped tooth
The way those eyes tell a million stories and yet are so kind
He listens
I’ve never had that before
And calls me out on my *******
Because he knows I like to lie

He doesn't put people down for things they enjoy
I’ve never had that before
He respects my passion and lifts me
He treats me like I want to be treated
Because i'm sick of being treated like an ignorant little girl

He's nice to everyone and
I’ve never had that before
Even if he dislikes them he's compassionate and kind
And sees good within the worst

And although his hairs to long
And although his brothers a *****
And although I still feel judged by him sometimes
I’ve never had someone like him before

Safety
Love
Warmth

I’m not afraid to call him whenever
And I was already friends with his friends
He notices things, even before, that no one else does
And is genuinely happy for me

And i've never had that before
Never had the kindness
Never had the unconditional
Never had the best friend
But I guess thats because i've never had him before.
JKirin Dec 2020
Like a quiet summer night,
it was—
or a gentle gust of wind,
and just as fleeting:
Their fated meeting.
Simran pawar Jul 2020
The first day I saw him,
That was different,
And I start observing.
I knew that,
Not everyone in this world is real,
But when I realized,
there was no one real like him.

When my eyes first met him,
Like magic in his eyes,
And I lost it all.
I still knows it's the,
Best thing that happened.

When we talked,
Kindness in his smile,
It's just like,
As if the happiness ,
is just living with him.
And falling in love with him,
Was the finest thing that happened.
Part 1 of victim of love
Afeksi cita Mar 2020
•••
Was a lucky coincidence, when i first met you
Was a pure sweet innocence, when i first talked with you
Started with a simple conversation
Flowing effortlessly without thoughts of any reservation
Never wanting to walk away
Felt like i wanted you, in every single way

Was such memories that never blemish
Made me unconsciously started to wish
For you to always stay by my side
Because the fondness is engraved deep inside
•••
Sharon Talbot Nov 2019
All of my life I waited
For you.
Walking on a path sometimes,
Or wandering in a mountain wood.
Even escaping to the tropics,
To let the sun burn my desire for you
This way or that.
But each time I looked behind,
There you still were,
Not fully formed at first,  
But a shadow.
Or sometimes light.
Then there was a sense
Of possibility, hiding in the air
That shivered around you,
But caused my course to veer  
Ever so slightly toward you,
Like ancient footprints in rock,
Deciding for me.
I never believed in Fate
Until I met you,
Standing in the doorway
Of a cottage, outlined  
With October’s warming sun.
I did not see your face then
But I knew.
And decades after
The same certainty abides,
Alongside any other gales
Of emotion or  
Temperate joy.
Around you a brilliance
Hovers in my soul.
Where you walk
Beyond my sight,  
My eyes still see you
And my love  
Follows in your path.
Inspired by my husband.
chichee Feb 2019
This is how we meet:
It's a cocktail party, ****
big baby blue eyes and
the smell of your skin
lingering in every corner.
Out on the country lawn, we all
give whiskey kisses
and blanket smiles.
Tonight I'm lined with teeth and
you're bored out of your mind.
On the radio, a song plays
I just wanna feel something
.
A little doodle.
دema flutter Jun 2018
Remember when we first met?
                  I wish we could meet again for the first time.
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2017
My attraction towards her was fatal.
For the realest things to come from her lips affected me in more ways than one.
You see truth speaks volume.
And the beauty that comes from her lips was more than I anticipated.

Feeling my attraction begin to rise.
I attempted to switch the subject.

Finding that we both shared the same amount of pain.
Adding value to each subject that rose.


I began to feel that there was more for me.
My self consciousness reacting before I could gather myself completely.

I felt a sense of liberation.
No longer the day I had at work, what I was planning to eat on the way home.

More instead how every other thought included her.
The respect held eye to eye.
The avenues of how her day went, the ins and outs.

The evidence that I found what I was missing.
And I didn't understand one bit.

 

I suppose it's better that way.
Stepping outside of myself into the crossway leading off into the street.
A dark backdrop highlighted by a white light of a bald man walking before it turns
A reddish orange.
Though nothing is as harmless as it seems.
I felt at ease staring into her eyes.

 

Stepping inside of her mind was like walking into an art gallery.
Her interests, technological advances all highlighted in bright and violet hue.
All in the span of 10 minutes walking in.
Mutually we both spoke with our hands.
We'd throw fits with our laughs, indulging in the philosophy of smile.

 

With morality aroused I instantly began questioning myself.
Wanting to know more I asked question, after question.
Anything as a means to have kept her talking. Feeling an everlasting peace.
Walking downtown in an abundance of space, I felt I could breathe.

But I couldn't shake that she felt that I was like most guys.
That at any moment, as comfortable as she was, she was still waiting on me
to give any indication that I was no different than the faces pointed down scrolling down their phone.

 

And we,
Like separate thumbs.
Belonged to different people
Trouble
Lucius Furius Aug 2017
That magic summer where we first met and wooed
fades further from us with each passing year.
The words we spoke are gone; the words' tune lingers on.

We'd tasted love--
sweet, imbalanced, temporary--
now longed for the same only more complete,
more complementary.

Intimacy comes easily to some.
Others store their feelings up:
treasure for those who can rightly claim it.

We met at a party for new students,
drinking strawberry daiquiris.
For me, the attraction was immediate;
a bit slower for you, you say.

We were wary; our trust grew quickly.
And we, in the confines of this serious trust,
at last could be
our own childish, playful selves.

We went to movies, plays, folk-dancing;
walked in Crystal Lake Park;
ate; watched your soap opera;
touched each other constantly;
fought; made up elegantly.

And then, as we sat on a warm stone bench
on top of that underground library,
eating lunch,
--heart in throat--I said:

"The pleasure I have known in being with you
for these six weeks is something quite unusual.
And if the same is true for you,
if this's a love which could lead to marriage,
then I will try to find a job nearby,
where I can see you frequently.
But if your love is of a lesser sort, then I
will cast my net this great world o'er
and go where Fortune takes me."

                                   Then you,
not hesitating a single moment,
flooding my eyes with your radiant smile,
replied, "It could! Oh yes, indeed, it could!"

Much has happened since,
but I say it was then, that summer, that moment,
love reached the final, high plane
where we, though hardly conscious of it now, still dwell.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem: humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_059_magic.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
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