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.