W a l k i n g

He'll glance,

Every chance he gets.

A peep from the corner of his eye, 

slight sweep over the dusty library books.

But no smile.


A flat unresponsive mouth.


His eyes will twinkle,

the corners of his eyes will laugh.

but no smile.

W a l k i n g past me.

Grazing my hand with his own,

he'll look back,

but not smile.

And I'll think 


My question to him.

Is it my hair or

these hideous high-waisted pants I wear?

My question to you everyday,

all day.

Why don't you smile back?






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