Dead Living Weight

Sometimes it's a struggle to walk under all the lives I'm not living, hanging from my shoulders like little demons of dead weight. But, and let's talk of strange coincidences, when I see you when I least expect it, and recognition flashes in your eyes as you gaze one second longer than you should have, my back cannot help but straighten, and the demons feel like wisps of cloud. In those moments, if I looked behind me, I'm sure one would have fallen off, because that glance opened a door that was closed before. But I never look. I'm too busy staring after you.