. he loves me .
he loves me not
technically okay

Thursday.
7:30AM.
She gets up, dresses,
ready for life.
Nothing can get in her way.

8:00AM.
There he is –
the one she (thinks she) loves.
Her heart flutters.
She stammers as she nears him.

8:02AM.
“H-hi . . . You don’t know me
but I know you
and I was just wondering
wanna go to the movies with me?”

8:03AM.
“Um . . . Sure.”

8:04AM.
She blushes furiously.
“So . . . this Saturday then?”

He nods.
Walks away.

She turns, then hugs one of her friends
who was following not to far behind.

“Yes!”

Friday.
11:28PM.
She lies in bed,
can’t fall asleep,
only thinking of him,
so excited about the following day.

Saturday.
2:55AM.
She has a dream about him.
It makes her blush.

5:42AM.
She can’t wait any longer.
She jumps out of bed,
then picks through her closet
for a suitable outfit.

No, not this one,
too plain, too casual.

No, not this one,
too cheap, so slutty.

No, not this one –
Actually, maybe.
Simple. Clean.
Reminds her of herself.

She smiles.
She has an hour to do her hair now.

8:39AM.
As she eats her breakfast,
she keeps an eye on the clock.
They’re meeting at ten.
She sighs.
Still an hour or so more.

10:01AM.
She’s a minute late.
It worries her – what if he thinks badly of her
because she’s late?
Oh no oh no oh no –

He’s not there yet.

She sighs, relieved, then sits and waits.

She’d wait an eternity for him.

10:42AM.
He’s finally there, huffing and puffing.
He apologizes for being late,
you know,
traffic jams, car broke down,
family emergency, slept in,
all those excuses.
She doesn’t care, of course.
As long as he’s there.

11:30AM.
She doesn’t even know what movie they’re watching.
It’s not as if she’s interested
in a movie.
She’s interested in having him by her side.

With her heart pounding,
she reaches over and puts her hand on his.

He doesn’t avert his gaze,
but grips back indifferently.

She smiles, leans on his shoulder,
and watches the movie.

12:03PM.
The movie was cruddy, but
it’s not as if she cares.

Still holding her hand,
he treats her to ice cream.
She giggles and smiles,
then leans in to kiss his cheek.

He grimaces.

5:55PM.
He walks her back to her house.
It’s cold outside.
She invites him in.
He shrugs, and steps inside her empty house.
She leads him up to her room,
wanting to show him around.

5:58PM.
The lights are dim.
She shows him around.
He nods boredly.

Suddenly, she pauses.
He looks up, a question mark over his head.

She leans in closer,
then kisses his lips,
runs her tongue along them,
clinging to him.

He breaks away from the kiss.

6:12PM.
She sits on her bed besides him.
Talks to him, tells him about her.

She pauses again;
he subtly scoots further from her.

She smiles and hugs him,
holds him, makes sure he won’t leave,
and pushes him back on her bed playfully –

or maybe not.

6:13PM.
He growls.
“Stop it.”

She looks shocked.
“I thought you liked me?”

6:14PM.
He winces.
“It’s going too fast.”

She frowns, then caresses his face.
“I thought you’d like it.”

6:15PM.
He makes a twitching movement,
as though he’s about to slap her hand away,
then decides against it
and firmly pushes her hand away.
“Stop it.”

6:16PM.
She frowns, in denial.
Leans in, tries to kiss him again.

He turns his face away.

Tears well up in her eyes.

6:17PM.
She cries.
“If you don’t like me,
then why’d you take me out?”

He pauses.

6:18PM.
“To humor you.
I was flattered, too.

“It’s not every day that you find out
that you have a stalker.”

6:19PM.
She laughs in pain.
Gets off him, and he stands up.

As she cries, she holds him,
tries to kiss him again,
but he pushes her away.

6:20PM.
He walks to the door,
leaves, and
as he closes the door,
he says –

“By the way . . .
I’m gay.”

---

P/N: Haha, I hope this doesn't happen to me. :) I didn't really check over the poem after I finished, so alert me to any errors/inconsistencies, please. Also, do you think this works well as a poem, or should I do a prose version? I just wanted to get the idea down so I chose poetry, which is much faster, though would prose work better?