Lost Love

Years ago,
I met a girl on a bus,

She sat beside me,
close enough for me to hear her breathing,
close enough for me to speak,
but I never did,

I was shy,
Painfully shy,

Yet something about her
pulled at my heart instantly,
And from the way she kept looking at me,
I felt she wanted to speak too,

So we sat there,
two strangers pretending not to notice each other,
while our eyes kept meeting
over and over again,

Outside,
Accra moved normally,
People shouted,
Cars passed,
Music played from somewhere far away,

But inside that bus,
it felt like time had slowed down,
just for us,

Every time our eyes met,
my heart beat faster,
And every time,
fear told me to stay quiet,

I kept saying to myself,
“I’ll talk to her soon.”
“At the next stop.”
“Maybe in a few minutes.”

But fear is strange,
It keeps you silent,
until the moment is gone,

Then suddenly,
the bus stopped,

It was her stop,

She stood up slowly,
and for a second,
it felt like she was waiting for me to say something,

Anything.

But I stayed silent.

She stepped down from the bus,
and only then,
did I find the courage
to really look at her,

I turned toward the window,
and our eyes met one last time,

She was staring directly at me,
There was something painful in her eyes,
Something that looked like regret,

As if she too
was sad that neither of us
had been brave enough,

Then the bus moved on,
and she disappeared,

But somehow,
she never truly left my mind,

Years have passed since then.

I’ve been in relationships,
Some ended badly,
Some left scars I still carry,

And after every heartbreak,
my mind somehow returns to the lady on the bus,

I keep wondering
what would have happened
if I had just spoken,

Would she have become
the love of my life?

Would things have been different?

Or would we have ended like the others,
hurt, broken, and distant?

I will never know.

And maybe that is the hardest part,
Because silence does not only take away moments,
Sometimes,
it leaves behind questions
that stay with you forever,

Even now,
there are nights when I still think about her,

The lady from the bus,
The stranger whose name I never knew,
The almost-love I never touched,

And deep inside me,
there is still a younger version of myself,
sitting beside her,
wanting badly to speak,
but losing the battle against fear,
as her stop gets closer and closer.