He covers his face
behind the leathery backpack.
His friends smile at me,
and my eyes land on him.
I wonder what his eyes look like,
hiding behind those worn, silent walls.
Is it a glimmer of love—
or thunderclouds of shame?
Is his heart racing like mine—
or crushed beneath the weight of hate?

Why would our eyes meet,
if you're not searching mine like I do?
Or is it a mirage—
a trick of love?

I can count the words we spoke,
not enough for all my fingers to bend.
Still, they feel like thousands more
than I’ve ever said before.