400 days ago you were a wounded wolf with no voice, no name. you walked the halls with quiet strides and hid from me without intention. i was another face in a sea of thousands, you led a life completely apart from mine. yet, i could not help but see you even when you were blind to me.
now there is a name to your smile, your wit. i thought about those 400 days ago and wish i could go back to when i could only imagine your voice. it was easy then, to think of what ifs and could have beens. now that you’ve seen me, i recognise the repulsion in your eyes, eyes which have been so tender to others.
my heart protests the truth, but my mind demands reality.