Bathroom
I go in the bathroom wanting to take a shower.
I put my clothes and my feelings away to get washed.

I stand in front of the tap.
I turn it on.
Water starts pouring.

I space out.

The water becomes too hot to handle.
I turn the tap without looking —
towards the right,
because that is where the cold water is.

But then I get a thought:
No, the cold water is on the left.

I turn the tap to the left.

Then I get burned
from the water.

We pass each other in the hallways like strangers.
You look in my eyes, I look in yours—
We speak without words,
Because eyes say more than lips ever could.

Passing by you feels like passing a stranger...
But strangers don’t know—
your name,
your laugh,
your smile,
your birthday,
your class,
your eyes.
But now, you act like you never knew me at all.
I tell myself:
It’s done.
What’s done is done.
Maybe we weren’t meant to know each other.
But even after all that...
I still miss you.