Ryan Joy (atxryan)

Her, alone: I often see,
Though she never sees me.

On the way to class,
She said nothing as we passed
in the hall. Her attention steadfast
and forward, ignoring to the last
my questioning glance as to her past?

She was so close on the bus today,
So close, yet her eyes tell me she’s a world away.
She’s distant. Was this always the case?
Hoping for a clue, I search her face.

I see… Nothing. Empty. Desolate,
even. I want to know how does she do it?

I need her to know I exist
so maybe she’ll be able to resist
the temptation to become listless.
In short, I really need her to persist.

Her, detached: I often see,
Though she’s never, ever seen me.