You sit there,
Staring at the fluorescent square of the IMac,
Moving the little sphere back and forth,
Rewinding and fast forwarding your work of art,
Reflecting of your fake yet stunning oceanic blue eyes.
Your tall, slender shoulders casting a cloud of darkness on my cheek,
I loathe your inability to see my feelings,
I love your smile, embarrassed and shy.
Cheeks turn to a rose when I look at you.
You never look at me but I’m sure my gaze is palpable.
When your rare gazes fall on me, my heart flies higher than the angels,
I smile at you, turning a violent shade of crimson.
When you see me on Monday,
You release your flowing tenor, pure pleasure to my ears, and ask about my weekend.
I answer, stuttering every eighth word, with you boring into me,
With eyes of liquid sapphire and crystalline care.
