"What will you do with these feelings?"
"Forget them as I've always done—"
"You can't suppress them forever."
"It's not suppressing. It's simply forgetting.
Drifting like the waves of the sea,
So banal they are that their shape is forgotten
The moment a new wave rises."
Monday hit. I'd woken with little to no energy.
I don't know why there are moments,
Where I simply don't want to do anything
Other than lay in bed.
I suppose it's human—
The fatigue of all things circling me:
The mortal body needs rest.
But I still got up to see you.
Truthfully, I didn't want to.
My entire body hurt
And my mind wasn't all that there,
But you showed me little by little how great it is
To not isolate.
I've noticed that in my quiet days,
You talk most.
Almost as if sensing that I cannot hold the conversation myself.
I'm the extrovert— and you've expressed your liking
To people who make conversation out of nothing because you can't.
But on these days, you try a little harder,
As if noticing the small changes in my expressions—
I know you don't.
Or maybe, subconsciously, you do—
I'll simply let myself believe that.
You brought up conversations, big and small,
Making me smile as we drove.
I couldn't say much but I appreciated your effort.
"Are you still in pain?" You asked worriedly.
I rested my head on my hand, nodding.
You gave me a sympathetic look.
"You?" I asked.
"Yes."
We both tiredly dragged ourselves to see each other—
The entire time I tried to imply small hints of me liking you.
I touched you a lot more.
I rubbed your back whenever you spoke.
But upon not seeing any reciprocation nor reaction,
I stopped.
And I kept my distance.
I do not ever want to make you uncomfortable,
And thinking that I probably was,
I stopped all at once.
And yet hours later,
You went out of your way to touch me.
Whenever you kicked me accidentally, you apologized.
Typically you tap my knee, apologizing.
But this time, you rested your hand entirely.
You rubbed my knee,
Looked at me with those soft, black eyes that hold stars,
And you apologized,
Keeping your hand there for a good few seconds.
If only you knew how much I crave your touch,
You'd be more careful about how you give it to me right now.
For in that moment,
I just wanted to lace my fingers with yours—
Kiss your cheek, tell you sweet things.
But I refrained:
No normal person invades another's personal space like that.
You could gather one hundred poets,
A thousand philosophers,
And many others who carry the wisdom
And ability to put feelings into words—
But none will every decipher the feelings that
I carry.
None of the ancient writers could ever decipher
The pain-stricken admiration,
Addiction,
And overall need for you.
To think that I've neglected all and everything
Just to spend hours with you. . .
What have you done to me?
"You catch me at my most ungracious moments," I shook my head, driving. "It's really humbling."
You were laughing so hard that tears were coming out of your eyes as we recalled all the embarrassing moments you'd caught.
And all I could do was sink in the embarrassment that I felt—
But when I saw you wiping your smeared mascara off with your pinky finger,
I couldn't help but smile.
"I don't see her liking me," I stated truthfully.
"Why?"
Because you're oblivious.
But also, because unlike most people, you have standards.
And I don't think I'm enough to fit them.
I try to trick myself that you probably think more of me—
Remembering the smallest of details from as far as a year ago.
I told you I'd never gone to a concert and when my favorite group came to town,
You instantly jumped on the opportunity for us to go.
How I remember that day.
It was the first time we ever spent a whole day together.
It was a bit weird as we weren't as close,
But it'd been comfortable enough for us to still do it.
You bought me my coffee—
You said this was how you expressed love.
"No—" I refused, but you swatted my card.
"If you don't let me do this, I don't think we can ever be close friends. It's my love language, please."
I looked at you, extremely unsure, however, when seeing your pleading eyes, I sighed and caved in.
We walked around the streets of downtown,
Looking over at the pretty sunset that hid behind the buildings.
I looked at you with interest since then.
For in that moment of silence,
All felt peaceful.
When the concert was over,
We wanted to rush out before all else did.
We left during the last song,
But as we did,
I grabbed your hand
And I pulled you behind me so we wouldn't get separated.
Especially as the crowd was beginning to do the same.
I noticed you hesitated—
And so I was about to pull it back,
Until you laced your fingers with mine.
I think that's the first time you made my heart beat faster than usual.
Monday night, I laid wide awake in my bed,
Thinking how this delusion will only hurt me more:
I will never confess,
And the possibility of not meeting your standards hurts.
"I don't think I could pull that," I teased whenever we saw a man pulling up to the same coffee shop.
"You're a solid ten," you said, shaking your head.
"If I were a man, I'd shoot my shot with you."
I remember then and there that's when you first caught me off guard.
When you first made me blush.
On Tuesday, I'd been just as tired, if not more:
But I still saw you.
We still are together.
We still studied together,
Despite the two of us being up since before the break of dawn.
I could barely keep my eyes open as we studied,
And before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep on the table.
I don't like to sleep in public spaces.
It's embarrassing to me—
And yet, I found myself completely comfortable,
Knowing you were there.
When I dropped you off, I bit my tongue.
I do not want to feel so needy—
Like I'm not worth being around you.
Belittling myself for even liking you—
And so I opened my mouth to say goodbye,
But my traitorous mouth deceived me.
"Want to hang out tomorrow?"
YOU ARE READING
DOS GARDENIAS PARA TI
Romancethots (thoughts) written by me, for me, dedicated to me
