You’re sitting there, surrounded by people,
trying to get your attention.
While your thoughts are falling apart, a crumbling wall.
With every piece you put back on, another falls to the ground.
Breaking, shattering, with the memory’s running loose.

The season changed again, but you’re still in the same place.
Leaves brush your face as they gently tumble back to earth.
You try to create your own world, in your own mind.
One where you don’t have to fear others words,
their discerning looks as you walk past, on that lonely road,
the leaves making your soft footsteps silent.

The weather starts to change; you stop and look up,
stop to feel the first raindrops, the water taking away your worries,
the people start to disappear, their words faded, mouths unreadable.
You start to smile, your head down, for a reason unknown to those now distant,
unknown to those falling leaves, the water still blissfully raining down.

The world you tried to imagine never came, never appeared.
It didn’t need to,
because you looked up,
and he looked back.