Love, Hate, and The Middle

Love, Hate, and the Middle.

Love, I felt it when I first saw you, your back facing me. If only I could face you. Facing you always made me feel like a tart.

Hate, I felt it when you gave me less than a minute of your eyes. But you were too busy playing the part.

The Middle. When you and I were far apart.

At home I remembered you that night, every inch of you making me feel smaller.

An inch or two taller.

Hips slightly wider.

A backside that made my mouth water. The patch of blonde hair behind your head, it made you seem that much brighter.

There was no way we would ever share a bed.

There was no way to get ahead.

But I loved every inch.

Every bit of the eyes I knew so little of. If only they would give me the time of day, just a little bit.

Blue, green, the middle pigmentation.

Every inch of you made me love you, a self-defeating inclination.

The first time I saw you, the second, making me forget my every lesson.

Lesson about the fall. A pain that never lessened.

Lessons about not looking too long as you walk down the hall.

Lessons about love. Love that comes too quick. Love that always calls.

Love that shouldn’t make me skip.

Because soon after, I feel the dip.

A dip due to every skip of advice given by my friends, mere strangers, by myself when meeting a man of your calibre.

Calibre riddled with details that made me feel like I was going madder.

Not too tall. An inch or two smaller. Hips slightly wider. A backside that made my mouth water. Eyes I knew little of. Green, blue, or the middle pigmentation.

Calibre riddled with every fine detail.

A voice that made children smile. It made you seem greater. It was a trap for me to fail.

A voice the made me wander.

Wander as I saw you smile. But I knew we would always be at yonder.

Smile at me, at them, at anyone taking notice of your every detail.

You loved it when they looked at you. When I looked at you. I hated that one detail about you. It was the ugliest part about our tale.

It was the middle ground between loving you or letting go.

I chose to love you. It was always an uneven score.

Love, hate, and the middle.

No matter where in there we were, you always made me feel so little.