Published April 17, 2015 by Shreya Rajvanshi

I don’t know anything about him,
But I know for a fact that
I do know him, I know him as
The boy who sits in the coffee shop
Every evening, on the same spot,
Drinking the same coffee and
Staring at the hot mug, till
It starts to sting and sore,
He is the boy who sits on the
Last seat of the bus, drinking in
Every page of the books he reads,
He is that one, unoccupied bench
In the park, sleeping with the
Fallen leaves,
He feels like the white crayon in
A box full of bright colours,
I know him as someone who gets
Lost in the crowd and believes
That he goes unnoticed, but what he
Doesn’t know is that, I’m the one
Who serves him his coffee and
Washes his hands when they
Start to hurt,
He doesn’t know that I’m the girl
Who sits next to him and
Reads along with him,
That I’m the girl who dusts off the
Leaves to keep him company,
I am someone who watches him to
Erase the blackness with his
White heart,
And that, I’m someone who notices
Every little feature of his,
To even write a poem on him,
But how I wish he knew that.


25 comments on “Noticed.

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