The Boy

Gold curls, shinning under florescent classroom lights, strong jawed, low voice, scruffy and charming.
Where I used to find you repulsive due to gossip, I know think about you constantly. Green eyes stare me down and I wish you were really looking at me and not through me.
See me! Look at me!
luscious red lips, so well shaped, full and ripe, I would touch them, lick them, nibble them.
You are my ambrosia, addicting me to your presence, I melt when you enter the room. Dripping wet, I flush and stammer around you.
I wonder if you are taken, off limits, is there some one out there who claims you?
If I made a move, would I be rebuffed?
Held at arms length?
I wish I could see you outside of class.
I bet that with a drink or two, we could hit it off again like old times.
If no one was under your arm, I would fill that empty space and calmly fuse you to my side.
To talk about the time that had gone by, the fake tale about your unattractive and kreepy actions, and the reasons for my believing them.
Is this the God's way of showing me I have changed?
Or the Devil's way of laughing in my face?
I am centered around you, when you walk into the classroom, I freeze.
My breath comes faster and my brain sail out the room.
I admire your intelligence and am annoyed at your quietness, I wish you would speak up, louder so I can hear you from across the room.
I sit in class pretending to think about Saint Emmanuel or Darwin and instead am really thinking only of you. I wonder if youll ever be mine...