We pass by each other,
hands brush each other.
Accidentally, of course!
We daren’t look at the other.
Just a crush, nothing more.
We’ll be back the way t’was before.
But in between is this brevity
Why won’t you speak, mon cheri?
No words are exchanged
No meetings are arranged
Perhaps your heart belongs elsewhere
I suppose that’s indeed fair
A few days later, the paper thundered
“Lo! A young woman was murdered.”