She

I like you

Do you feel the same way?

I maintained some sort of hope that she may look at me the same way I looked at her,

I was caught in a dream too good to be true

This didn’t feel real.

I felt like I was in a romance movie.

The way she looked as I stared at her

Was so aesthetically pleasing

It seemed artificial

It seemed as though someone had spent hours, sculpting her pose and relaxed facial expression

The way she held her head still while she looked down at her notes,

Resting her chin on the palm of her hand

Her plump lips slightly open

Her round glasses slipping down to her nostrils

And her cheeks reminded me strangely of a peach,

Rounded and soft and slightly red

Her two french plaits on the top of her head

Struggled to hold all of her short hair

Some of it cascaded in front of her face so elegantly

That she seemed too good to be real.

And her smile

Her smile

Her laugh

Her lit up eyes

Could lift me up

Higher than the clouds

But could pull me down

Below surface level

The moment I realised

She could never me mine

The sorrow I felt

The sadness

The tears

As she described

In detail

Her “ideal type”

And

It wasn’t me

She was brought on this earth to torture me

A devil disguised as an angel

She made me realise

I live in hell.

But all the same I still loved her.

Her

Her

She.