Funny
but not in a polite way
Witty
Daring
Razor-sharp
Basking in a round of warm-beer-belly laughs

Pillow soft
No-man's land
Lay down your weapons
on my shoulder.

Confident
Never bossy.
An everyday diplomat navigating courtesies
A heard point.

Attractive
******
On
   my
     own
       terms.
By
   my
     own
         rules.

Liked
or unliked
The choice is theirs
I have little time for it.

To be all this at once
or not at all
on my count

Take aim

You are a sentence uttered quietly
Hollowly
Under breath.

You are on-show from the flashy coffees to the rushed sandwiches swallowed whole, to the bottles of wine spontaneously indulged on on the commute home.
Yet you have never felt so hidden.

You make people feel things they don't want to feel on these errands.
These pointless tasks that amount to all.
Guilt
Shame
Annoyance
Discomfort
Concern

But there are more of you now than before.
A whole library of the same sentence.
The reply is always empty.

there is no other way than to describe him through his height.
he’s identifiable through his tall figure, standing above all
all eyes on him.
he has attracted all including her,
her eyes diverting to him any minute they can.
her dark pupils choose to muse at him, even when she chooses not to.
he was irresistible, that was without a doubt;
can you really blame her?

he carefully traced his brush along the canvas,
its stem daring to fall from his fingertips.
his strokes were gentle, and when he mixes his colors he made sure it was the right one.
his splatters were all around the corners
but he’d go back to fix them.
he gently brushed his finger across her cheek,
his fingers weak, threatening to fall.
his touch was serene, resisting the temptation to scar her again.
the times he would make a mistake were uncountable,
but he’d always come back with an apology.
neither were perfect, and at the end of the day
his artwork was the one he loved more.

day by day, my fondness for him grows and grows.
i’d catch myself looking at him more, paying attention at every little thing he does.
i’ve gotten over him, the other boy.
he’s grown useless and left a hole in my heart.
it’s not just me who’s catching feelings for him;
but her, too.
and at first, we talk about him because we both adore him.
and now, when she’s grown closer to him,
i suddenly hope her feelings will go away
and that they don’t end up being together.

possibilities of her liking him the same way i do.
possibilities of him liking her back.
possibilities of him never noticing me—ever.
possibilities of me getting hurt again, like i always do.

i admire your features day to day from afar, noticing every speckle that would add or go by.
i listen to the way you speak to others, how you’d put your words together.
your laughter is like a lullaby i'd love to fall asleep to every night.
it’s so hard to let you know how much affection i have for you.
i guess for now i’ll just love you from afar.

take them while you have them.
they can sit right in front of your eyes,
or they can be as far as a thousand miles right behind you.
they’re not hard to find, but once you do, they’re a rarity.
to speak or not to speak.
to close the gap or to not.
take them while you have them
before they slip from your reach.

him, the one with lengths of broken black hair.
him, the one whose smile ever barely arrives.
him, the one whose feelings are hidden deep within.
there wasn’t a conversation we’ve had together;
not even one
and yet when we are in the same room,
and we are breathing the same air,
and our eyes are driving around together,
i am reminded of why i like him.
and how he manages to make my heart go pitter patter,
but at the same time break it.