Like everyday, I see,
you coming out of your sweet agony.
Your pain,
makes my love for you abounding.
As I stare at you
through the narrow recesses of the gleaming window,
the sunlight filling my eyes with joy.
Oh no, its not the sun to blame.
The world seems fine, with your smiles,
and that twinkling laughter of yours.
Do you know my feelings,
or me at best?
I guess not.
Does that hurt?
It fills my whole self with profuse pain.
But I still manage a smile,
or a silent blush,
when I see you sitting outside the door,
talking to your folks,
not once staring at the gleaming window;
where fluttering eyes stay.
One of these days,
you'll be well.
Not anymore will you sit outside the door,
not anymore.
Not once have you seen up at me,
now, not anymore.
You will ride your bikes,
come back late in the night.
Or not return at all.
You will smoke joint with them guys,
in the alleys, that I cannot venture within.
My eyes still search for you through the gleaming windows,
for your signs, your laughter,
or your music.
My love is still growing,
but it aches for your presence.
One day, it might grow,
to exalted heights of agony,
and will let me wither and die in this pain,
that love alone can give.
