you keep looking at me
and it's slightly murderous
dark, like you want to twist my arms off
and there's something untraceable in the looks
anger, maybe,
a swirling tornado of mixed emotions,
longing? hate? 'glad I'm done with you'?
fascination? interest? mystery? dislike?
'I finally found out what was happening'?
whatever it is, it's not love
it's not pleasant
doesn't make me feel very good
but,
I am almost relieved, selfishly,
because my eyes have been watching you for months
and you've finally started looking at me back.