I want to meet you again
It was early summer when I walked in Central Park. The sun shine bright on sky, birds flew from tree to another tree, the wind blew my hair so softly until it felt ticklish on my neck. I was walking alone and wanted none to disturb me. At that time, I was lonely yet loving my loneliness. That was beautiful morning, really, that was beautiful.
And that was the first time I see you.
All I could remember was; you were wearing long shirt, black jeans, and shoes. Your hair was short, kind mixture of neat yet messy. You had thick eyebrows, with black-beautiful-eyes under it. I almost remember all. But you got that beautiful laugh, and you made me fall, dear stranger. Why did you laugh? I was so hopeless to feel anything except sadness. Was there anything funny left in this cruel world? But I’ve had already fall.
But you didn’t know if I was so creepy that I fall for you because my creep-stupid-abnormal-fetish: your birthmarks.
Dear stranger, if I was able to say hello to you. I would love to do. But my mouth was locked and my heart was frozen, and all I could do was watching you go, with a girl hand on your hand.
Stranger, I want to meet you again and say hello, if only you’ve already let that hand goes. Until that time comes, I will just keep you on my mind.