What it was, Would never be known. Was it a reciprocated one, Or one of the more common, That of the unrequited sort. Touched by tragic beauty, Of the impossibility, There was a longing, And a sense of despair. Song lyrics exchanged, Each leading to a frantic decoding, Of words unsaid. Were words unspoken, Or was it just a dying man's grasp. That would remain unknown, undecoded. Each meeting led to a reawakening, Of something deep within. Each awakening hastily suppressed, Lest it turned the soul into hollowness. With each glance, a silent goodbye. And a hope, for clarity. Kindred spirits we are, they say. Or is it because of the unknown. Lest things are unravelled, And beauty be lost. Let it stay amidst shadows, Forever unspoken.
