his voice echoes continuously through my mind
repeating those same fluid words
like ripples on the surface of an endless pool of water
again and again.
That same photographic memory
of four beautiful seconds
filled with brilliance and easy laughter
is in high definition
playing on an endless loop.
It tears away every outside thought,
accelerating and building in a crescendo
driving out the rest of the world.

his gaze sweeps over me
in its path around the room
and evanescent as it is,
it causes my heart to flutter,
threatening to fly away

I'm left with an image branded on my mind
of eyes the color of antique coke bottles
Those kind eyes
begin to take on a menacing edge
in my memory
piercing deep into me and allowing
intense insecurity and admiration to flood in
as i recall the treasures behind them

Like most artists, he has no clue
that he's an incredible writer
but, as the days pass by in class
we start to let him in on the secret
yet, he still refuses to accept it

his sweet, shy smile
always talks down his brilliance,
clouding his depth
like he almost fears his own words
That expression of near embarrassment
when people enjoy his work,
mixed with the thought that he's so incredible
tears me up
and i strive to measure up
while he simply shrugs it off,
almost unaware of his excellence
like he's staring into a ***** mirror

I find myself thinking about it
in bed at night
when the rest of my anxieties
team up to press me under the day
in a deep, wildly-colored sleep

When the morning finds me
and the sun pulls me back to Earth
I stretch out my arms and
draw in the fresh scent of the new day
but as i fall into my usual routine,
the memories and insecurities and inferiorities
creep up to the surface of my thoughts
and I wonder if I'll ever move past this stage,
listening and admiring from afar

Suddenly an idea strikes me
and i press my pen to my paper
using his medium
to release what I've held in so long