Voltaic–that was the word to describe that feeling.
Everytime our eyes met,
The way your dimples appeared like little craters on the moon each time you smiled.
But it was never directed at me.
That wasn't possible.
You're as dazzling as a burning comet.
As striking as a solar flare.
I watched,
Starstruck.
Just a random satellite in your orbit.
One that mistook its own glow for your reflection.