I don’t know you
And you don’t know me
So it’s probably best that this never started.
This...matter of the heart that so often ends up bitterly
This breaking of people, this fight, this love
This hate
This relationship
Could I even call it that much?
After all, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.
But sometimes...I wish I could have known you.
Maybe that way I wouldn’t have to be sitting here on a Thursday night, writing a poem about not knowing you
Instead, I could be with you
Would it make me a better person, knowing you?
And if I did, would we be best friends? Lovers?
Would I know things about you no one else does?
Would I kiss you in places no one else has?
I often wonder these things. But I DON’T know you. And you don’t know me.
And none of these things have ever occurred.
Probably never will. But sometimes...I wish.