My eyes start to wander. I find myself
catch a glance of you.
My focus drawn away towards the other side of
the room,
while I am comtemplating a chance meeting you
someday,
I feel I remonstrate against myself, held at
bay...
If I could speak to you... I guess you'd see right
through me.
And if I knew your name... I wouldn't know what
to say.
I could draw these conclusions, without ever
venturing...
Why did fate bring me this catastrophy?
The cold catches me, lost in a vacant memory,
still-pictures etched in my mind of a life hung
over me.
So I remain inactive, repeating and re-iterating
a hope that's quickly, so quickly fading.