It’s a cursed game of peek-a-boo we play.
I wait for you to notice me
Behind closed hands.
Of course, you never will.
We chase each other around barriers
Thrown up by distance—
Or is it your resistance?
I know I don’t even know you that well.
I want to.
I want you.
But I’m hiding behind closed hands,
Ashamed of what I feel.
I know I can’t have you.
And if I told you how I felt,
I’m worried I’d scare you away.
So I hide behind closed hands
And tell myself:
Not now. Maybe someday.
It’s better for the both of us
If I play this little game because
I don’t want to scare you,
Boo.
Peek-a-boo,
I think I like you.
The sad thing?
I know that you can’t like me too.