My love,
Do you recall a certain film we saw in class,
And the unseen game that passed between us
In the blinding absence of the light?
Our classmates slept and drew and whispered then,
Though a few of us cared to watch;
And me? Smugly, I took notes from the film.
Did I have to? No, not at all. I did it from spite,
Always thumbing my nose at the crowd
And swore I’d outdo them all.
And as I would write, you’d now and then
poke me from behind–
Not roughly, but playfully, so I couldn’t think it unkind.
How did I know it was you?
I felt a tap in the back, once and maybe twice;
Annoyed, I turned;
Saw nothing about, and quickly turned back.
Another poke, another turn; this time I caught–
Something not expected.
Through the shadows, a warm luminous grin
Whose shining light beheld two deep dark eyes
Of beauty so sublime as I must call
Sweet perfection, embodied on earth.
You must have hoped I’d notice and react:
That I might return your teasing, poke to poke,
Or smile back, if only a moment–
What if I’d made to slap your hand,
But then softly taken it in mine,
And we watched the rest of the film
Hands locked in secret embrace?
Dear, so many words I longed to say to you,
And my hand in yours would have said them all–
But no girl had ever flirted with this nerd before,
Much less she whom I love,
And I’d never tried nor thought of it,
For we must be opposites, you and I–
It was bold to me, new and unthought,
But to you? Probably not.
So I turned back to the screen
And let a future die untouched.
But not the dream thereof.
You could have been disappointed,
But not more so than I in myself.
I know not if your love for me remains,
As my feelings for you ever will;
But my heart still dares to wonder
If you’ll one day forgive me
As I never can.
