Faded footprints

She sits in brown gardens of almost dead flowers...where you never find anyone. Sometimes she forgets that she is human. I have once sat with her when words became infertile to hold thoughts. We sat still staring into empty faces and eyes that told no stories. She is almost my best friend when she laughs by the jokes I tell. She is a stranger when we meet in bus stops or crowded class rooms. We do not talk, we wink, one to another. No foot printing on this girl, you cannot leave a mark on her soul without her permission.

Sometimes, in my dreams, i hold her hands and she grabs tightly as if to affirm that i have done the only thing she required of everyone, anyone... I want to think she is the one... I feel so close to her even though we only get to meet in places where mortals do not leave footprints. No wonder our mouths could speak no word, but our heart could understand unuttered thoughts. She walks by me leaving faded foot prints... And it is as though it has been hundred years since we last met.

I think i love her...