Am I ugly?  
I ask the mirror,  
but its silence cuts deeper  
than any blade ever could.  

Other guys say I’m pretty  
soft smiles, lingering stares,  
but his eyes  
are the only ones  
I care to meet.  

Why doesn’t he see me?  
Why doesn’t he want me?  
Is it my face?  
My laugh?  
The way I look away  
when he catches me staring?  

He doesn’t love me,  
but I can’t stop loving him.  
His name is a ghost  
haunting my thoughts,  
a shadow following me  
everywhere.  

Maybe I’m not ugly,  
but to him,  
I’m invisible.  
And somehow,  
that hurts more.