...and I think it was in those 30 or 40 defeaning seconds, where I stared at you waiting for a response
that I realized I'll never be the person you want.
Perhaps I turned around and expected your head on my shoulder, as usual.
I look in your bluish pupils and they uncomfortably shift and stare in an apathetic manner.
You won't look me in the eyes,
but I was always afraid to look into yours.
My fingers fidget and pick at the excess cuticle skin hanging from them
as I stare at the floor and try to figure out who we are.
Your expression never changes and your hands stay rested firmly on your legs.
You don't look at me.
You never look at me.
Our heartbeats don't even make a thud in the silence of the room.
The only thing that moves is your hair, swept in your face, occassionally bouncing in strange quick movements.
I took hold of your hand and stared up at you like a child
but it was too late.
I read all the wrong signs and crashed right into the ditch.
You were long gone, right next to me.
I lost you.
Lost you and your fingers were still delicately intertwined in mine. |
Submission Name: aftermath
