In the coffee shoppe
Where I ingest my sustinence.
Coffee the sweet aromatic juices of the gods
Across the way, taking my first sip, his unenthusiastic glare as he pours another.
His spike hair oh so non conformist brought to vibrancy by his skinny jeans; which fall short of his ankles.
Taking my seat he pays for Joe and looks my way.
Was it a wince or a chemical reaction. I smile warmly swallowing my sip of immortal caffeine and he smiles back. I smile because it was a wink; a gentle acknowledgement oh so discreet.
I have never talked to him outside the shoppe. He is quiet and yet oh so coy. Not talking to him peaks my enamoured lust for this beautiful creature. If we talk..these glances we have shared will drift away. I think I like them..and the awkward feeling of, “is he looking back”.
Until fate pushes us into another he will be forever that boy I never talk to.