THE MOST PERFECT ENDING

Love, I don't think you ever see me.

But sometimes, I feel your eyes on me, like perhaps you might feel mine on you. I walk faster, trying desperately to simply disappear before I fail to resist the urge to look back longingly and hesitantly smile. Yet I think maybe I'm deluded, as usual. I see you smile occasionally, a smile that would never be for me.

Now, you are gone, before I really touched you. I tell myself your features would fade from my mind soon enough, and that is the most perfect ending to this hurtful truth that should be erased.