I've been waiting for her to notice.
Not just the story
me.
Like a mother waiting for her baby's first words
unsure of what they'll say,
but desperate to hear something.
I don't even know if she's seen it.
If she's ever stopped to wonder,
Could this be about me?
Maybe her eyes passed over it.
Maybe her heart didn't.
And maybe that's what hurts the most
that something screaming inside me
could be completely silent to her.
I keep wondering...
if she even knew.
But time doesn't wait for feelings.
It's already May.
I'm leaving in a week.
And maybe, without knowing it,
I've already seen her for the last time.
Why do I feel this way?
Is this love?
I don't think so.
She was just a crush.
But I haven't felt this way in three years.
So even if it's just a crush,
it still feels like something
I don't know how to carry.
It's confusing.
Like a baby staring at his own hand,
wondering what the hell it is.
I know she can never be mine.
But still...
What if she could be?
And what if I've already wasted it
writing lines she'll never see,
thinking thoughts she'll never feel?
These afternoons
slow, quiet, empty
they ruin everything.
This isn't heartbreak.
This is just...
afternoon madness.