I Wrote This in the Dark

She sits there at the corner of the diner by the window

A gentle breeze ruffled her short hair

She wiped a drop of tear from corner of her eyes

Maybe the hair got into her eyes

I secretly wish her hair to fall on her face,

That would grant me cause to touch her hair,

I picture softly pushing the strands with care.

All the while, her rosy cheeks and eyes so fair.


Shyly and graciously looking down

The waitress poured her coffee

What a coincidence, she likes black coffee too

But she hates the drip of the coffee

She hates that stinking of the drop on the handle

It slid down slowly, all the way through the handle to the base

It left rings on her table as she moved the mug

But she stares at her mug, she'd rather fascinate the mug than the coffee.


She turns her head back at me, our eyes greet from a distance

Just like every other times, I got glimpse of her heart

It's always beating, the whisper's always coming, it's always nothing.

But I'll love her from here, where I can see every little part of her.


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