Like Fire In My Eyes

Today, I saw you passing by. In the mystery in which I find myself, I wonder, "How could I not see you?" Contrary to what they say about darkness, your black, sober hair was like fire in my eyes. Your navy school skirt contrasted perfectly with your gaze, which said to women, "I'm prettier than you," and to men, "I'm too pretty for you."

You walked with long, deliberate steps, captivating not only me but everyone around you. As you leaned next to girls who were insignificant compared to you, I joined boys who were significant to me. The problem was that when I sat down and looked at your image to the left, I lost your beauty to the right. And when I looked to the right, the same thing happened. I searched for the center; only it could give me the perfect view, like the yawn you gave, which, unlike most, did not distort your face.

When I finally found the center, I realized I wasn't going to settle for anything less. I watched, analyzed, and planned how to sit next to you, for the insignificant surrounded you, just as the boys surrounded me.

After thinking, rethinking, and almost giving up, they stood up and did what they did best: be insignificant. You slumped against your backpack in your lap, and I wondered if this was a way to avoid conversation. It was a mystery, so I didn't risk testing the opposite.

If regret could kill, I would need another life.

As I approached, I saw you get up and walk away without hesitation. Trying to play it cool, I sat next to a girl who, with a casual glance, warned her friend, "That guy's weird." I'm not sure if she meant me, but anyway, you were already gone.