Farce

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