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“Perhaps Perhaps, one day, we’ll cross each other’s path, Not by design, but some strange twist of fate. You’ll glance, and I will feel the world go still. Your eyes will find mine—soft, unreadable— And in that gaze, my chest will tighten fast, A fluttered breath I cannot hold inside. I’ll wonder then, do you still see through me? That way you did, as if my soul were glass, No secrets veiled, no walls I’d ever built— As though my silence whispered all to you. I’ll stand there, caught between what was and is, A moment wrapped in quiet, aching heat. Old feelings, like a tide, will rise again, Beyond the grasp of reason or of will. I will not move, nor will I turn away, And yet, I will not speak. I’ll let it pass. But I won’t cry—not there, not in your sight. The tears, if any come, will wait till dusk, Or till the echo fades within my chest. I’ll walk away, alone, but not the same— Still holding something wordless, undefined. A hope, perhaps? Or just the ghost of it.” — Shahid Hussain Raja