Consistent, Inconsistent Mind

- he who i will never have -

I had him once.
Within the reach of my bare arms.
But I ruined it.
Now we walk the corridors in opposite directions, like strangers.

He's a story I will never read
He's a mystery I will never solve.
his skin, a surface I will never touch.
his smile will never stare right back at me.
his eyes will never look into mine as mine are eager to stare at him in the hallways.
We knew a love once,
once is now forgotten.
for him.
not for me.
the moment my eyes met his, all those feelings of the past flushed right back like circulation in my face after being out in negative degrees.
But I can't have him.
Because for why should I?
I don't know him.
I don't speak with him.
Our contact broke off like two magnets repelling one another.
And yet, here I am.
Writing this.
It just goes to show, that after all these years,
I still care.
Somehow, I still care.
Why do I still care?
How do I still care?
Do I care?
Letting go feels impossible when the only way to reach them is through the words of mouth while he stands there in front of me.
He won't stand there in front of me.
He won't listen.
Which I should respect, but I don't.
I need him to hear me.
But the truth, as it sometimes does, hurts.
I know what we had can never revive itself.
He doesn't owe me anything, and I'm sure he expects nothing of this sort from me either.
Yet my dreams have him as the protagonist.
Yet he is the person who catches my eye first.
Yet he is all I can think about when we're in the same room.
Yet he stands there, slouched against the lockers,
his brown, blonde tinted hair, hanging down like assembled curtains on the sides of his face.
Staring at his phone or staring anywhere but at me.
Why does my blood boil?
Why do I care?
Brain, let me stop caring so much.
Brain, let me go.
Why can't you just understand that he wants nothing to do with me.
He made it abundantly clear.
He has made me spin off my axis and out into the darkness and cold of space.
I don't miss him.
I miss what we had.
Those evenings and mornings of butterflies and longing.
conversations.
declarations of love like classic cinematic scenes.
How do I get to you?
I can't, I shouldn't.
Yet I plan all the possible outcomes of there being some possible way, the slightest chance that something could ever work out. The miniscule possibility of him agreeing to speak with me.
He doesn't know my thoughts.
But they scream through my eyes trying to catch his.
I'm far too obvious to pretend to say I'm just distracted by sounds or people.

to he who I will never have,
you were my first.
you mean something to me.
I need to let you go.
I'll see you in the corridors for another 12 months, and then you will walk out those doors, once and for all.
Until then,
I will need to accept that you will be,
he who I will never have.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and for listening :) It truly means a lot to me :)

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