Excel
We met at the street’s quiet mouth,
where the evening hummed its tune.
She waited,maybe for me,
maybe just for the weight of the water in her hands.
A little talk,
nothing grand,
just words floating like loose petals,
meaning everything, meaning nothing.
She asked, I answered. I asked, she deflected.
Her phone was dead,
a truth wrapped in darkness.
Mine dead too with unsaid things,
numbers unspoken, moments slipping.
Dad watched from the balcony,
his gaze heavy with questions.
“Why only her?” he asked,
but how do I say, because it’s her?
How do I say,
I want to tell her so much,
that I’d carry more than just water,
that I’d save more than just numbers,
that I’d hold these quiet evenings forever if I could?
But instead,
I just walk beside her,
carry what I can,
and let the silence speak.
