You're here when I feel nostalgic

We crossed paths. Across the blurred faces and side winding body figures I saw you. You were wearing that blouse I always hated. The one that made you a conformist. We were always two beings of different paths, destined to walk along the same road, but you conformed and became the straw that broke my back. I was hopeful but now I keep my hopes and dreams in a dirty shoe box, alongside the shoes I used to wear. I saw you, but you didn't see me. I waved my hands in front of your face for hours as you walked. You just kept staring past me, a transparent pane of glass. I kept at your side, keeping the pace...waving my hands. You'll have to stop walking at some point on your new road. I'm pathetic for following and for waving my hands and for hoping and for dreaming and for everything and for being nostalgic. Especially, when a cast aside stone gathers moss and is left and forgotten and green. A cast aside stone along the Atlantic shore. At least I have a view of the water. At least I guess...