Life would be simpler if you'd never declared your feelings. What is the point of me knowing them? You dangle words of longing and need at me, with occasional declarations about a future.
Your eyes meet mine as you sit with her. I'm glad that since September this has only happened once before, this sharing of space. Glances of apology and awkwardness. I have done nothing wrong, other than share your company, listen to your declarations, feel them, let you see me.
Why then should I feel so tense? It is the words that float in the air between us. Unheard by others. There, present, in our heads and your eyes, words that don't pass your lips but are communicated nonetheless.
I want you, and I don't. I can't control what you say, but I can ask you to listen.
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