You swept by so fast,
as if you were escaping from a fire.
I watched you scurry away, no longer feeling your presence;
I stood and stared at the back of your head,
until all you were was a blob in the distance.
I couldn't make out the color of your eyes or that dimple on your left cheek,
I couldn't sense your hand intertwined in mine or the attachment you once showed.
I couldn't hear the scuff of your shoes against the ground or the song you whistled to.
I thought about crying out your name through the hall,
but something inside me stopped my mouth from forming the letters with my tongue.
I wish I could have an honest conversation with you,
More than a head nod shared without warmth or a silly one message text.
If I could put you together like a ten piece puzzle,
I would finely understand why you left,
Why you've transformed since last year.
And why you no longer whistle in the halls or show me the dimple on your left cheek.