evading

i come home from work, and it's you that i think about.

i come home from a funeral, and one of the first things that i think about is you

and you don't even know that i do.

you don't even know that i feel this way about you, you...

make me glad that i am awake in this i-me-mine planet, where i read about the things you have done or the thoughts whirling inside your head

or what makes you frown, shine or run away.

i stop myself from writing down about you.

but i end up rather ill-strong telling that this (and something else beautiful) is how it is to be thinking of you. it will just be noise because no one needs the information. and i won't let you know.

so i stay in my place, while falling stars cross your nights and the sun warms your sleeping face (at times).

you are relevant to my life. i can't explain it. i don't want to know why, unlike you, you...

want to know almost everything.

once you, in your wildest dream, find out that this is about you, i hope that in your bluest mood, it will remain a happy thought that someone like me has always been

although six-degrees is enough, we're still a rainbow apart

because i, i...

don't make the first move.

and this is like standing in a stadium where the seats are vacant but we both know that they're really not

this space is wide and vast, seems like a twin of the thoughts in my mind about you.