To you, my not-Valentine

I wonder
Does your breathing change when we’re at proximity
Do your eyes linger a little longer when you look at mine?
Is your hand afraid of touching me
The way mine always does, every single time?

I wonder
Has your heart ever twisted in pain?
Have your lips quivered a little before speaking?
Is your soul afraid to touch mine, afraid to maime,
That is why you stick to dreaming?

I wonder
How much do you even think of me?
Do you even think of me at all?
Is it even worth it knowing,
when I’ve already made the fall?

I wonder
Why do I always chase the ones ahead
When they do not even turn to see?
They didn’t hear what I just said,
“Why do I not look at the one looking at me?”


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