I’ve seen her once in shattered dreams,
A flicker drowned in silent screams.
She passed me by—untouched, unknown,
Yet carved her name into my bone.
She never looked, she never saw
The way her absence split my jaw.
I stitched her face from scraps of air,
And filled the gaps with quiet prayer.
She was never mine—
Not even close.
But something in her
Felt like home.
I don’t know her,
Not the way I need.
But still she haunts
My every plead.
She walks through me in every crowd,
Too bright, too soft, too far, too loud.
I memorized the way she breathes
Though she’s never even spoken to me.
I’ve built a shrine from passing glances,
A temple forged from phantom chances.
One smile and I’d lose my mind—
But she keeps her gaze,
And leaves me blind.
If she knew—
Would she run?
Would she scream?
Would she come undone?
She isn’t mine.
She never will be.
But still I wait
Where no one sees me.
I never touched her...
But some nights,
I still wake up
smelling her on my hands.
Her lips still burn on my neck.
She breathes through the cracks in me.
She dances in static and screen glow.
She’s never come home—
but I never let her go.
She leaves a trail of broken glass in my head—so I follow it barefoot, like an idiot in love.
