Happenstance
I don’t even know your age
I know how you taste
I don’t even know your last name
I know your pretence
I don’t even know where you stay
I know your mind’s whereabouts
I don’t even know your friends or family
I know your kinks
I don’t even know what you do for a living
I know what you do with feelings
I don’t even know your thoughts
I know your societal transactions
I don’t even know how you feel about me
I know your alter ego
You don’t even if I’m a tea or a coffee person
You know my baggage
You don’t even know my favourite song
You know my trauma
You don’t even what I like to eat
You know my fears
You don’t even know what I read or watch
You know my insecurities
You don’t even respond to my texts
You know the voices in my head
You don’t even read my poetry, or know that I write
You know my neediness
You don’t even know how you make me feel
You know my mood swings
Leave one be, to face that reality
Of not being the special one
Not even one of the few
Just another placeholder
Just another transit
Just another person, less of a human
See me a little less,
like me a little less,
appreciate me a little less, every passing day
Reject me a little more, deject a little more
Bone a little more, friendzone a little more
Ghost a little more, roast a little more, each passing day
Until loneliness devours one whole!
Loneliness will devour me whole, one day!
And I shall either perish soon or rise to be a part of the bourgeoisie!
What would be and could be better or worse, than being a happenstance?