Glaze over one last time

they’ll never notice.

Dark eyes.

Pale face.

Think of nothing

(ignore the pounding pain).

Close my

eyes,

and pretend the one I love

the

most

had a single clue.

Washed out,

over,

and,

under.

Best to think of something

else.

Something pleasant and pretty.

Eyes.

Hair.

So unlike my own,

yet

you are me.

In ways I’ll never

be

me.

Could I for just a moment have your attention?

Please?

Nothing more obvious has ever

betrayed

my

lips.

You can’t know.

They’ll never guess.

That we might just be something more

than

just me.