In metro, observing quietly.
Trying to memorize every face sharply.
Looking for a sign or the one for me.
Something holy, that makes me less lonely.
Other ones don't seem to be as interested as me.
All heads bent downwards, faces dripping into screens.
I can't help but wonder why I have this habit,
A part of me craves someone worth a ring, not a sentimental labyrinth.
Perhaps a piece of me wants to be seen,
Or asks someone to be just keen.
After all, no matter how hard I suppress these emotions
I find it overflowing, oh to be a human being.
It's such a weird dichotomy,
To have the art of noticing coded in me.
I can't help but wonder,
Will I ever find someone as me, ultimately?
In my dreams the scenes unfold pretty neat.
The moment I find someone with this habit,
The time we realize we found the other half after a long bit,
Would we be making moves or just sit?
Two minds who dread starting the conversation firstly.
The real thing that scares my soul is the possibility,
Of finding the one and losing it immediately.
The one who witnesses it all, but never dares involving,
I guess that is the weird dichotomy.
Trying to connect in the metro, is it some form of grieving?
By attempting to leave something aside that I never managed to win over.
Forcing the mirror of my soul to not collide with others as judging gazes hover.
So I'll stare at the blinking station lights and fake that I am not a loner.
