i would be lying if i said…

no, i don’t search for your face when i walk into a room
or that my eyes don’t follow you to the door when you leave—
couldn’t you stay for a few minutes longer?
and maybe, say hello to me?

you play the violin much too loudly, so I always tune you out and listen to something else.

i don’t think you’re handsome, not your dark eyes and intense stare,
coupled with a wry smile and mildly
casual slope of the shoulders.
no, not at all.

sweatshirts and leather jackets never fit you in a flattering way; your loud orange t-shirts
make my eyes hurt.

i don’t find charm in your arrogance or oblivious laughter
at your own absurd sense of humor; in so many ways,you’re just a child that loves to show off—
you are part teenage boy but mostly circus act.

the reason why i can never make eye contact with you and smile
when we pass each other in the hallways is because
you’re too tall and i’m
thoroughly uninterested anyway.

(time lapse…)

it’s the truth when i say that
i still think you are
something quite special, nonetheless.