hey you.
yeah you.
it was 10:30 and i was groggy
my bones aching and creaking as if they were worn out machinery
you got on at Granville, maybe Thorndale
i may have missed your entrance, now that i think about it
you wore a class ring
that caught the morning sun and reflected it into my eye
but that wasn't what caught me
you stood patiently
as we lurched forward
you balanced
calm, composed, collected
i looked up ever so occasionally
hoping you'd be looking back
sometimes you did
i laughed
you left at Grand
i left at Lake
next wednesday if our paths may cross
i will tell you that i liked the way your hair looked

Imagine you are in a pitch black room.

smash

Your blood starts pumping and you can feel your heat beat faster and faster.

foot steps

>.>

whispers

Then the sharp ice cold knife is pressed to your neck.



This is how I feel doing a speech or going out in public. XD

They didn't know that
her heart was perpetually on vacation,
stuffed
between the pages of Austen and
Murakami.

Yes, they loved her
autumn smiles, her conversations, even
the jazz ensembles of her
clothes. But her heart
was locked in the New York Public Library.

The distance was far
too great, the risk far
too much.
After all, this was the place where Paul
Varjak told Holly
he loved her
and all she did was look at him.

Let me tell you about public buses
with their rolling wheels and upright seats
where the driver entraps in his own world
and as the passengers, we in ours;

but there's a strange occurrence
when strangers share the same seat--
suddenly, we are sensitive
to their slightest movement
the deepness of their breath
our legs touching slightly, sometimes
ramming together throughout
this epic journey.

then, it's our stop;
we are at the window seat, our eyes darting
outwards, with a speeded heart,
our eyes focus on our
impending bus stop.

but before our words form
the sounds, articulate the words,
this stranger has already shifted
with a smile.

"Thank you," you say, stunned,
wondering how they knew
your feelings.

It is the most intimate a situation he had ever found himself in.
On a public transport, after someone had left their roost,
He had replaced himself in their seat.
An odd sensation went through him as he sat down,
The feeling that he was trespassing in someone else's skin,
Learning things about them they hadn't meant to leave behind.
He felt their warmth, the way the seat contoured to them
And he knew not their name.
There were feelings left in the seat
Sadness, depression and pain saturated the resting place,
Yet something lifted his heart out of his chest,
Rising from his perch and flying to the sky.
Hope had also been found through the prior resident,
Remaining in the seat like a lost wallet.
He drew on this remarkable gift amid the monotony of the rocking subway;
The gratification he felt toward this unknowing Maecenas was not to be extinguished,
At least for that one blissful moment found on
Public transportation.

To some, life is a collection of public functions and the rest is death,
To some others, life is a collection of private functions and the rest is death.
Advaita destroys this worldly order.

whispers
giggle twirl today
meet me in the hallway
as we gather our books and pens the normal way
as though this happens every day
you smile in the happy little way
that seems to hold me as i say
meet me in the hallway

we meet like love isn't here to stay
as we collide in the hallway
people smile and look away
at our rendez-vous in the hallway
your lips meet mine, we kiss, you stare into my eyes as we sway
meeting in the hallway

i waited for this all day
anxious fluttering belly fae
i walk out, the noise around me coming to a haze
as i smile at you, unknown, in the hallway
as you hold out your hand for me, life seems a little less gray
because i held you in the hallway