I knew she is in love with me. Some people can’t describe what they see but I know that look. I know her eyes are on me as I am engrossed in papers and sketches. She knows the shade of lipstick I wear because she always asks me what brand I’m wearing, she should memorize it by now. but I suppose it’s to get words out of me.
Her long hair is always tucked behind her ear except when I talk to her. Her hair conceals her blushing face.
I’m not saying all this to seem cocky.
It’s beautiful to see a type of love I’ll never have for myself.
In a way, I fell for the way she fell for me.
I know when I drive her home sometimes she looks at me long enough it’s as if she’s drawn butterflies on my body. Butterflies slowly opening and closing their wings.
There was a day where I was dropping her home where her eyes weren’t soft or admiring as usual, they were rather inquisitive.
She asked in almost a whisper What makes you so silent? I’ve never witnessed a day where you spoke more than a sentence.
My answer was immediate because it was prepared and ready to be said at any time I haven’t found someone questioning enough to dissolve the spell of my silence”