Oldest story ever told.

Watching from a corner

Staring at Mr. Imaginary

Like she’s never seen him before.

Blond hair, blue eyes, stereotypically

Perfect.

Voice that tickles the mind

Stirs the thoughts

Breaks the heart,

She’s stuck.

She pretends that when he looks up,

Fingers forming music,

That he sees her from across the room

Even though he doesn’t know her

And she doesn’t know him.

She wants to smile at him

But trying makes it seem too plastic,

So she just listens,

And watches

And breaks a mile wide,

So obvious to everyone but him,

With his stupid classic voice

That makes her freeze in her tracks

Like every single song

Every single poem

Every single throwaway

That anybody’s ever had.

Only she can’t throw it away.

Caught up in the richness of his songs,

She’s as much a victim as a

Willing sacrifice

Even though she feels her focus

Digressing from conversation

As he speaks to somebody else

And she overhears the words

She wants him to say to her.

But she’s just the girl across the room,

And he’s Mr. Imaginary.

It would be a miracle if he ever

Looked up in time to see her at all.

T.J.V