What happens when you fall for someone at a bookstore?
I wonder if books gossip about us later.
I shared time and space with her in that old book cafe.
The classic authors stood witness to our awkwardness.
We drank some tea, some ink,
and then some undercurrents of emotions.
We had everything but words.
Like lonely bats cutting the night in half,
our thoughts walked around the room in circles.
Our souls could defy gravity,
but our feet stumbled at the edges of conversation.
The words were supposed to be our seatbelts,
but we were already falling.
She shook her head and laughed a little,
And that was the poetry I’d never know how to write.
I could only float from one moment to the next,
and hope that she was there in all of them.
Drunk on the clusters of hope and desperation,
I opened one book and closed one self-doubt.