Dear Mr. Familiar,

How long has it been? For us to have known each other. And yet each time, you look away as I look at you. Your eyes do not agree to follow where your heart wishes to.

I can see that you have difficulty with expressing what you think of. The words that you choose often remain as blurred as your feelings. And the faceless face that you carry,
hides behind some unspoken mystery.

Dear Familiar,

What are you? A savior, a warrior? Or may be just an unnamed bearer? And where are you leading yourself? Into the boulevard of emptiness, surrounded by a profound noise so that you can ease the chaos lying within?

Or are you leading yourself into the silence of intense nothingness. For who knows what you carry? Not chaos but miles and miles of sacred oblivion.

Dear Mr. Familiar,

Who am I to judge though? Of whatever you wish to hide or share, of where you want to leave or lead yourself? I am no more than a creepy lurker.

But tell me just once,
Hasn’t it been too long since we have pretended to un-notice each other?
Tell me,
Is it too hard after all, to fake a smile before our eyes hurriedly looks away?