Seeing you uncomfortable 

around a motley few

invoked feelings of semblance 

that I now have for you.

You walked as if time was

your enemy, with each second’s

strike bearing the sting of 

metal rod thrusted into your heart.

You pretend like you never care;

but, it seems as though that you’re

insecure, though about what is 

my mystery of detection.

Is it your family’s takeaway, or is

it your own preference?

Has your past left you scarred, or does

the future haunt you day and night?

But, it’s too late now.

You have no interest left in me.

You seem long passed those first two

weeks, when I felt invigorated, and so

did you.

Your eye contact left me soft.

Your words, each syllable, a movement

of you lips. Your eyes, a dreamy brown,

it seems that I’m the one who’s

made the mistake.