death by desire;

You know what?

he
says, picking at the
overly greasy overly processed
overly fake pizza slice
and frowning,

If you
could die from desire
of epic proportions,

he
glances around and his
eyes land on a
boy that I've been
told is named John
many many many times by way of pointing
and swooning and lusting.
His eyes landed on
this John person and
his soul kind of
leaked out through his
chest.

If you could
die from epic
want,then I'd die 346
times a day.

he
pushes his plate away
and looks me in
the eye, and all
I see is pain.

Plus
or minus the times
I make eye contact
with him.

He blinks
and the window to
his heart blinks and
closes. I just nod
and agree with him
and try not to
let on that I
know exactly how he feels.
exactly
how he feels, because
what's killing me walks
me to classes and
eats with me at
lunch and hangs around
my house and my
heart. what's killing me
is too busy dying
to notice that he's
shooting holes in my
soul everyday of
our
lives that are completely
and utterly and hopelessly
un
tangled.