He looked at me with his usual cool indifference
As if I never really was meant to exist.
But that precious second
Was enough to send that cold fire in his eyes
Burning through my veins.
I had loved the glance I used to give him
And whenever I have even a glimpse
Of those ever-taut lips,
For some random unknown reason,
Curve ever so slightly into such a warm smile.
I saw him with such curiosity that I had noticed
The way his hair curled around the back of his ears.
That I had watched even the slightest crumple of his brows,
Or the single drop of sweat that came rolling down his cheek.
The way his long, graceful fingers
Traced the faces of those wine bottles
With such fondness so exquisite,
That scene would forever be burned in my memory.
He fascinated me to no end.
A couple of times,
I have caught myself touching those bottles.
I remember the way my fingertips shivered,
Almost feeling the lingering warmth his fingers' trails,
And the awareness that he had laid them here
Never failed to make bring a silent smile to my lips.
He stood so differently from all the strangers in that crowd
Just being himself – so indifferent and serious,
Surrounded by grace and silence,
Or maybe just abused by the hardness of life.
I almost wondered why he was always moving
In that fast, unwavering pace.
That's how I saw him.
But who knows?
He's just a stranger,
Though queerly so,
I only knew his face among a sea of strangers.
But that didn't even matter,
For every once in a while,
Those subtle seconds I shared with him
Comes surging back to my memory
And fills me with such unique contentment that
Only they can give.
Time is heartless.
Every second is ticking away,
Leaving me behind without even listening to me,
Shouting for it to slow down.
And I always hoped that
I'll see the cold fire in that stranger's eyes again.
But for the meantime,
I'll just entertain myself
With my fascination of him.
Once in my life,
There was a stranger
A stranger with a few careful words
And a smile in his eyes
I heard and saw,
But weren't really for me…
Just being me
Not even having to know his name.