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?