this is an unfinished poem about you during one early morning jog, i'd seen you sitting on a bench, earphones plugged in your ears with a cup of coffee in hand, and you were angelic— it was as if you were shutting the whole world out you looked free and in one late night walk, i saw you once more sitting on the same bench, on the very same spot but this time, you had tears in your eyes and you were in grief— it was as if you finally embraced the world that you tried to ignore you were beautiful i decided to take one step, two steps, three steps, and a few more steps closer, until i could almost hear each sigh, each whimper, each heartbeat your presence was grace to me but it was just that— before i could touch you with the tip of my index finger, you disappeared like a popped bubble and in every morning jog after that blissful moment, i'd look at the unoccupied bench waiting for you to return just so i'd be able to stare at you longer you were like a dream like an angel that decided to visit out of curiosity, and wept for the world did you miss home, angel? but you were home to me and until i catch a glance of you again, even if it's just a fleeting glimpse, this poem will remain unfinished and the rest is history