I am a brutal poet
For my heart still wants what it can't have
That feeling of closeness without an ounce of shame
Something we all want deep inside
And now that you know it
Do you see if I glance across at you when you laugh?
Do you watch my gaze when somebody says your name?
Do you want the flicker of my eyes?
I always feel I am trapped in the middle
I cannot look, but I cannot look away
Which one paints the bigger picture?
To look would to be honest,
To admit the cry my heart emits on the beat of the syllable,
To look away would be to admit the shame of doing this,
Tell me what am I to do?
When we sit together and our legs touch
Do I stay or do I move it away?
I follow your lead, I know no other path
So our legs stay touching, and you do not move yours
So I don't move mine, but are we thinking the same?
Does your leg stay so you do not have to feel the shame
Of having to keep your distance, of not wanting the touch?
Oh how I wish I could read minds, but only for what I want, I think things I never want people to know, and I am not selfish,
Well, not that much anyway.
Still our legs touch
I cannot remember if we spoke at all, I think we did.
And eventually you stood up to leave,
And somehow we all ended up following, like sorry sheep
It seems we all prefer a mutual goodbye.
