He is the boy you found last summer, but he melted your heart like the ice of winter. You wanted to know him the first time you met him and although he has no idea you actually do. You still see him everywhere as if your eyes were only meant for him. To you he is different, but to him you aren't.
He is the boy you look for despite a sea of people creating a distance between the two of you, his red shirt catching your eyes from afar. He turns to look at you and glances away like nothing happened and still, you reach for him anyway even when he doesn't.
He is the boy walking past you, and passes you by like you're some stranger. Your world stops moving for a little while, looking at his smile. He walks away, not knowing how much he catches your breath. You sigh, thinking he'll hear it once he started walking away.
He is the boy you sing songs for. He is the boy you write poems on teared, crumpled pieces of paper, wondering if he'll ever read them. He is the boy you dress up for on a Saturday night. He is your purpose. However, he never wrote you a song, he never wrote you a poem, and he never had the chance to see how beautiful you looked in your new dress. He never saw you, because he was too blinded by things that didn't matter.
He is the boy who made you laugh although mostly he made you cry. Your handkerchief smudged from your wet mascara, full of tears he never dared to wipe away.
To you he is everything, sadly to him you are close to nothing.
To you he is your choice—one and only—but to him, you're not even an option.
That's him. He is the boy so close to watching yet far away from loving.
Alve Jane Aranton blogs at sheisthepaperbackwriter.tumblr.com.