Look At Me That Way

There’s something restless in the way your lips curve,

a quiet dare held just beneath the surface.

Your hand almost conceals it,

but the truth leaks through your eyes—

sharp, amused, knowing.

I wonder if you realize

how still the world becomes in that moment,

how the space between us fills with questions

I’m too afraid to ask.

Are you laughing at me,

or is it something softer?

That look feels like a trap

and a gift.

It dares me closer,

invites me to fall into its edges,

to lose myself in everything you won’t say.

I want to know what thoughts bloom

behind that expression.

Do you hold your secrets tightly

because you think I won’t understand,

or because you want me to try?

Your smirk is a map

with no clear destination.

Your silence, louder than any words.

Even as you glance away,

you leave pieces of yourself

for me to gather,

to wonder over,

to carry long after the moment fades.

You don’t need to speak.

I already feel the pull of you—

the weight of your gaze,

the quiet power of your stillness.

Just keep looking at me that way.

Not because I need to know your thoughts,

but because the not knowing

is what keeps me here,

caught between wanting more

and not wanting you to stop.