Oh why is it that looking at you from above makes me feel smaller while you are the one that looks like a little voodoo doll that is pushed by a greater force.I walked behind you so many times, after walking beside you for years.
Now I’m standing here, on the rooftop of my feelings, waiting for your hat that will make me regconize you in the endless stream of people. I will be able to follow your footsteps for ten minutes before you disappear behind the building again. I will look at your back and I can hear the song you listen to on your iPod. It is a different song than the one you listen to at the end of the day when you walk back to the trainstation and I can see the small dots in your face that are your eyes. Your eyes that stare at the street. Your eyes that won’t look up because you know I will be there, standing, looking, waiting for you.
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