When You Are Nearby

You are nearby.

Darling, we live in the same city.

On any given day, there is a chance I could bump into you: at the local cafe, with just enough ambient noise to contain my peacefulness. At the shopping centre, well-lit under fluorescent lights and shiny glass doors.

We could exchange glances like nothing has happened between us – I would walk up to you and embrace you, telling you about how much I have missed you. That is, in a perfect world.

But, we are not lovers. We are not friends.

We are two individuals with some stray memories in-between us. We are two wandering lost strangers hoping to find reassurance through forgetting. We are gone, yet still here.

Walking through paths once travelled by, your presence lingers still. Through the seasons, through the childish smiles. All that is left of us are barren trees and withered flowers. We were the beautiful colored leaves of the autumn.

Sometimes, I still recollect those memories of us together. Seeing your floppy hair blow against the wind; the dimples that highlight your face as you sheepishly grin.

You are nearby.

Somewhere in-between the crevices of the sidewalks; painted along the endless skies.

I am nearby.

One mile or a thousand – what is the difference?