The Chasm Between Us: A Free Verse Exploration of Almost Love

Proximal Distance

I remember the first time I saw her,

across the crowded market in Old Town.

She was haggling with a vendor –

over the price of a handwoven basket,

her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail,

exposing the sharp lines of her face.

Her eyes, a deep, rich brown,

flashed with amusement as she walked away,

basket in hand,

the vendor's laughter following her –

like a shadow.

I watched her from afar,

my feet rooted to the worn cobblestones.

The smell of fresh bread and roasting meats –

wafted through the air,

mingling with the sound of merchants –

calling out their wares.

I felt a spark of curiosity,

a sense of possibility,

as I wondered who she was,

what her story was.

Days turned into weeks,

and I found myself looking for her –

in the crowded streets,

my eyes scanning the faces of passersby.

I caught glimpses of her,

always from a distance –

sipping coffee at a café,

browsing through the shelves of a used bookstore,

walking alone along the river path.

Each time, my heart quickened,

my senses on high alert,

as if I'd stumbled upon a hidden treasure.

One evening,

I spotted her at a street festival,

her eyes shining with excitement,

as she watched a group of dancers –

spin and leap to the rhythm of the drums.

I pushed my way through the crowd,

my elbows shoving against strangers,

until I stood beside her,

the music pulsating through my chest.

The smell of sweat and perfume –

scattering my senses,

mingling with the sound of laughter and applause.

For a moment,

we stood there,

our shoulders almost touching,

our eyes locked on the dancers.

Then, she turned to me,

a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked,

sounded like the sound of a guitar string being plucked.

I nodded,

my throat dry,

as I took in the sight of her –

the way her eyes crinkled at the corners,

the way her hair fell in loose waves down her back.

We stood there,

the music and laughter swirling around us,

as the world seemed to narrow to just the two of us.

But then,

she turned back to the dancers,

her attention drawn away from me,

and I felt the distance between us –

yawn open like a chasm.

I hesitated,

unsure of how to bridge the gap,

unsure of what to say or do.

Weeks turned into months,

and the encounters continued –

brief,

tantalizing moments that left me wanting more.

We'd exchange a few words,

our eyes locking in a flash of connection,

before she'd slip away,

leaving me with a sense of longing,

of incomplete possibility.

I began to wonder if I'd ever be able to –

close the distance between us,

if I'd ever be able to touch her,

to hold her close.

My body's "fight or flight" response was triggered,

as, I experienced a heightened sense of –

tension and suspense.

One night,

I again spotted her at a small concert venue,

the music a low,

sultry hum that seemed to vibrate –

through every cell in my body.

I pushed my way to the front,

my eyes fixed on her,

as she swayed to the rhythm,

her eyes closed,

her face tilted up towards the ceiling.

The music built to a crescendo,

the singer's voice a raw,

emotional cry that seemed –

to speak directly to my soul.

I felt the distance between us shrink,

felt the air vibrate with tension,

as if the very texture of reality was about to tear apart.

And then,

she opened her eyes,

her gaze locking onto mine,

a spark of recognition flashing between us.

For a moment,

we stood there,

the music pulsating through us,

as the world seemed to hold its breath.

In that moment,

I knew that I had to close the gap,

had to take the risk and reach out for her.

The thought sent a thrill of excitement through me,

a sense of possibility that left me breathless.

I took a step forward,

my heart pounding in my chest,

as I reached out to take her hand.

The music seemed to fade into the background,

the world narrowing to just the two of us,

as I waited with bated breath to see what she'd do.

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