Love seems like a foreign neighbour;
always there but I never had a chance to meet yet.
I could bring over some oranges,
share a few slices
spit the remaining seeds into the earth and stay around to watch them grow.
I could offer to help out with dinner;
learn their silences and smiles,
perhaps getting comfortable in each other\'s presence without noise.
Would a simple knock and a \"hello, I\'ve always been beside you,
but we\'ve never crossed paths yet. Would you like to come around
for tea?\" keep them around?
I decide to knock
something dark and stabbing seizes my arms full of oranges,
and I leave the bowl outside the door.
I hope they got my gift.
I try to ease my chest.
the dark, stabbing feeling crawls into my throat,
I\'ll try to introduce myself in another 7 years.
Maybe I\'ll get a neighbour less lonely in a few years time—
maybe as popular as Solitude on the floor below us.
Love, how are you such a stranger to me>
But I\'ve always known your existence ever since
I first heard your name?
What a haunting name, Love, you have.
Please do come over if you want.
If not, you\'ll find me on the floor below
with everyone else.
From, you neighbour on the right.