To pass the time

Him

I've got no idea how he figured me out,

Or how he confronted me without doubt.

He wasn't at all rude.

Being the angle he is, offered me food.

I saw concern in his eyes.

It was sweet like the sugary taste of Apple pies.

He said "Sometimes you just know."

He seemed genuinely surprised I didn't push him away, tell him to go.

He took the time to talk to me,

And now he holds my heart's key.

He cares,

And doesn't mind the odd stares.

He's the kind that'll hug me without a word,

No matter how stupid or absurd.

He'll be there,

And for some reason he can see through me like glassware.

I honestly don't understand.

He's so perfect and I'm so bland.

Through my misleading layers he saw my bones.

He dared to speak to me despite the unknowns.

His eyes can see into my soul.

He's determined to save me from my hellhole.

Most people see merciless and emotionlessness when they look.

But he, he sees my pain and sadness, he can read me like a book.

He shows compassion.

He doesn't look at me like an underclassman.

He understands like a man beyond his years.

He'll guide me when my vision is blurred with tears.

Wether it's love or pity, I've got no clue.

But with either one, what am I supposed to do?

"If I can help at all, just ask."

That was the first time I willingly lifted my mask.

He didn't push, didn't pry.

He didn't encourage me to die.

He wants me to soar and not sink.

He doesn't look at me like the missing link.

My eyes are a steely grey, his a chocolaty brown.

He knows how to make me smile instead of frown.

I've never felt so important instead of irrelevant.

Everyone else has been so oblivious, unobservant.

"Get better," he says, "this sickness, you don't deserve it."