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Push

Everytime I try to look at you, your eyes reflect a sense of unrest, the kind that shows how you don’t want me to look. Everytime you come near me and I approach you, you push me away, like you don’t want me to come. I don’t think about it instantly, but I do notice. I notice how your admiring glance has changed into a stare, your subtlety, into distance.

It’s different, you know. The meaning of this push for you, versus what it means to me. You may use this push to signify boredom, I don’t. The futile monotony that might make you sick, may be the one thing I look forward to doing everyday. Your boredom signifies my love.

I might push you away in front of others, not look at you directly, or even be mean..... However, every push is an excuse to be close to you, every time I don’t look, I’m busy stealing a glance and everytime I’m mean, I just want to say how I adore you.

I maybe stupid, but that is how it works for me. Not because I’m afraid to fall for you, or to say that you’re mine, it’s just that those three words soon become shackles that stop you from swimming up to the surface in case of a shipwreck.

I’m afraid of shipwrecks, for they’re the most helpless way to go. So, tell me if this push of yours is different, because our icebergs maybe of the same size, but I wouldn’t know what yours is made of......

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