What’s In His Mind? (Extemporized)

There’s just really something about her when I look at her, even when I come across a photo of hers in my Facebook News Feed. Is it the curve of her eyes? The shape of her lips? her smooth skin? I really can’t tell, it’s so frustrating. And the longer I gaze at her, it seems parallel worlds open, letting me take a peek of what else could possibly be out there. She is beautiful, yes, and there’s something more to her that I simply just can’t tell. I know I see her everyday and we have our seats a few rows apart, but what could possibly happen? She’s there and I’m here. Those two rows make me feel like we’re worlds and worlds apart. She’s Heaven and I’m Earth; I am darkness and she is the light. Her beauty is beyond words and all I hope is to speak to her, to know her for more than just her face and stature. I want to know who she is; what her joys are, her fears, her hopes and dreams, what makes her jump in surprise, what she watches in her TV during those Tuesday evenings. I want to hear them all. Really, I do. What could she be possibly thinking of right now? Is she looking at me right now? Where is she headed to later? Would it ever cross her mind that I am crazed at the sight of her – even at the mere glance upon her profile? Her face haunts me, wanting me to know more of her. Do I even have a chance? I don’t think so, I have my failed attempts before. Small talk of this and that, pathetic. How much farther do I have to go to get to her, to hear her angelic voice? To have that chance of holding her close to me? Oh she is so much more than she seems. I am hopeless. What would it take for me to get into her world, to see what it’s like out there? I look right at her again, and concede, that I really cannot do anything anymore. Let time handle this.

Drifter

I am a stranger
at my own home
for the people I reside with
though their faces are familiar
I do not know
who they are

The people in this house
distant from one to the other
their fingers touch and
worlds collide

What has happened to
joy and innocence
to which none has stayed
Is this age olden?

For what reason does time seek
to destroy these weak threads?
This is not a home
but a house
waiting to crumble on its own.