I've been watching from the sidelines.
Following your shadow,
watching the ice cream melt on your tongue.
Butter Pumpkin is now MY favourite flavour too.
I've tried to reason with myself,
convinced with connivance
when you visit pink powder-puffs,
validated purely for physical pleasures.
If only I was braver,
Instead of the mouse that couldn't.
Do their fingers and tongues make up,
for a lack of wit and finesse?
Mine eyes catch you at gatherings,
hovering around a circle that captivates you.
You are drunk,
and we are besotted.
Nocturnal selves of humans split in two.
Both fraternizing with definitions of mediocrity,
ignorance granting them the gift of a chance with you.
My blind engine pumps harder,
at the sight of you in lonely streets.
Throwing food at wagging tails,
and affection at strangers.
I've stared unblinking from afar,
Flourishing at your leaves and ripening buds.
Bringing myself to conclusion repeatedly,
Imagining your fingers inside me.
Moving as gracefully as you,
Bending only when they need to.
I've schemed to be beside you,
Time and time again.
As the skin on our arms touch,
friction you never notice.
I inhale deeply, storing this smell,
ooh this smell...
Wondrous attraction that magnetizes University corridors.
Pining for a glance from those Gray Irises,
I've stared at the back of your neck with such intensity,
I'm surprised you didn't burn into flames.
Because touching this unrequited texture,
I know we are adjectives for a reason.
Born of a reflection.
And if we can't burn together,
I'll burn alone.