comma, ellipsis

anticipated sequel

It’s asymptotic

She speaks in fragments, inarticulate in front of anyone
But thoughts inside her head seem clear and certain
She keeps on censoring herself, minding the audience
She’s firm on the belief that she can only say so much
People will keep on believing and clinging to their preconceived notions/ arguing and explaining herself are pointless/
She has long recognized this
but she struggles as she wants to speak her mind without qualms, without the fear of being judged and humiliated.
There’s freedom in the company of her thoughts, in intrapersonal conversations, and in forms of art which somehow reflect he highs and lows of her daily existence, and even those that she can barely understand.

There she is, content

staying in the background

unprepared to bloom

trying my utmost
to not nurture this fondness
of you, oh, dear you!

Hey, dichotomy
What’s the desire of your heart?
What’s practical?

In your life’s montage

I hope I’m in the best scenes

Will you allow me?

The idea came up
But she decided to shut up
A bit nervous, a bit excited
She hoped her zits wouldn’t get the attention that they seemingly craved
His name was brought up
She pretended to be calm
Although she badly wanted to search for his face in the crowd
The moment she set her eyes on him
She noticed that time seemed to slow down
Moreso, it’s as if she shone brighter than anyone in that room
Was that a divine glow?
Was she making things up in her head?
It was like a scene in a romantic flick, which until then she thought was just fictional
They shook hands
She became conscious of the texture of her palm
Was it soft and smooth enough?
She could not shake that moment off her mind
She was too shy, too conscious, and too giddy , it hurt

This is confusing
exhausting and frustrating
I can only sigh

a table meant to be shared

occupied by a solitary eater

used to being alone all the time

but at this moment , longs to share it with someone

no, not just someone

someone she adores

but she can  only cling  to memories of their random encounters

which aren’t that much

In fact, she wonders if she’ll ever see him again

well, the situation’s not really hopeless

she can do something about it

but she’s chosen to be passive

relying on chance

or the absurdity of the idea of him wishing he could be with her,

to get to know her a little much better

We are broken lines

Apart and unbridgeable

Headed to nowhere

In a random crowd

You’re a face I haven’t seen

A glimpse of you, please?