I Know You Feel It Too.Stop pretending. I know you feel it too.
The quick glances when you think I'm not looking; and the red of the cheeks when I catch you.
That's right. I see the way you look at me; not like a piece of fresh meat like the others. No, you look at me like you adore me.
On those rare moments when you have to touch me, you do it with such tender gentleness; as if I'm as fragile as a butterfly. You do not push and shove like you do to the others, but put your hands on my shoulders and glide me across the floor.
You do not grip my arms threateningly when I walk away in frustration, but hold on to my hand gently, willing me to look at you so that I will stop.
On those rare moments when I have to touch you, you smile and beam and gleam. You seem to hold on to that tiny moment that my hand lies on the small of your back, or on your arm, or your shoulders. You savour each moment, even though it is only the smallest connection.
And still you pretend. You pretend, and pretend, and pretend. Let me tell you; you are a terrible actor. I want you to feel this way about me!
I used to love you so much; every breath I breathed held your name. You were every thought, every word, every song, every thing.
I moved on.
So why on earth do we still feel this unbreakable, undeniable, unfathomable connection?
Why do we still feel this?
I know you feel it too. Stop pretending.