It is better for me, not to be seen by the object of my desire. The apple of my eye, hanging from a tree I am much too short to reach neither worthy to behold. It will tempt me to do or say the things I will and can never take back. You are the apple I could never keep.
It is better I do not run into you because when I do, my heart starts racing like horses on a track. My squinting eyes seem too focused to notice anything else except making it to the finish line. My eyes look straight at you, noticing something new I hadn’t noticed before from the last time I saw you. You are full of pleasant surprises every time I see you.
That day, when I saw you coming down the road, I wish I had cut my hair. I wish I had taken my bathe or at least looked half way decent. I wished I looked like the handsome men I see in magazines, always well put together, always impeccably ready. I wish I looked like what it is you want. I wish you could say more than hello to me.
Toh… It is better I do not see you. It is better we never meet again so I don’t keep dying inside. An unintentional exemption eating away my energy. My drive to live happily, killing me slowly, like I haven’t died enough looking at you walk away without ever knowing my name.