blank pages

sat over coffee,
a book on her lap,
and i just stood there,
watching,
waiting,
trying to figure out anything to say,
coz she is,
like blank pages,
nothing to read upon,
and i bear no right to write her,
not even the slightest,
so i just stood there,
watching,
hoping she'll leave a hint,
a droplet of ink of her life,
so that i'll know,
how to speak,






this poem is dedicated to my once best friend. i still failed to figure her out.
i hope she is happy with her choices.