You smile from a distance. I peek. I gamble between life and death, look away before you see.

Flowers don't grow from rocks no matter how long the wait.

I stand here and you sit there — the wall of distance divides and cuts. It sears.

I offer you wordless poems in between your passing by, in uncrowded halls, whenever we half-see, half-meet.



This piece was originally published in Literary Limerence by Mia Alcantara.