Two very close strangers

It hurts that we aren’t friends

That I don’t know you.

I met you, I got to know you and I became a part of you.

But we never became friends, did we?

 

You never told me your name but I found out anyway.

You never told me your favorite color. I still don’t know it.

Do you even have one? I’ve never asked and I might never ask.

I mean, we never talk about such things. I wonder why…

 

You’re there when I need you. Sometimes anyway.

I found out what your birthday is. I wish I had found out from you.

Do you even know when my birthday is? May be you do.

But I don’t know that you know so, it doesn’t really matter

 

I love you. I think I do. Sometimes I am not even sure I do.

You’ve never told me if you love me. I think if I asked you’d say you do love me.

But if I have to ask then what’s the point?

 

It hurts that I don’t know you. The real you.

It hurts that I can’t tell you all about me.

That even when we talk and laugh,

I still feel that empty space in my heart.

 

Am I not good enough?

Are you not good enough?

Shall we always be two very close strangers?

Will I ever stop hurting?

Maybe. Or Maybe not.

 

 

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