A Note to a Stranger

If we were to pass each other
On the streets of Paris,
Would we be strangers?
Should I continue my
Silent cries of heartwrenching
Guilt?
Am I lost? Or simply blind to
Where I am.
This denial won’t save me from
The sun setting.
So may I paint my words through pain
And childish rhymes,
Like a broken swallow pathetically
Mending its wing.
Will words of love from another
Truly let me fly?
Or should I be put out of my misery,
A merciless death.
Hear my birdsong from afar,
As you faintly recollect
Words from a lonely melody.

Do you even remember my name?

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