I see you over there,
running nervous fingers through your hair
Stealing glances, suspecting that I am unaware
But I see you
I do see you, yet I pretend that I don't
I look down at my shoes and pick something off of my clothes,
I keep my head down, wondering what you will think of me
When I am wrinkled and grey and probably seventy-three
Of course, I am thinking that we could be —
Something?
In the future when we are ready
Maybe, before we are seventy?
But for right now,
I see you looking at me
When will you come over here and say hello
Until you do, we will never know
YOU ARE READING
Easier To Forget
PoetryPoems. // Hi, hello. This is a sort-of memoir/journal of unorthodox poems that I've written over the years. I started writing in 2015. Glad you're here (: Feel free to leave comments and vote or w/e. ×Mysneakz [Completed]
