You.

I see you.
I see you hanging with your friends, there are some pretty girls too. Few prettier than me and rest are not. Yes I am a little jealous of that girl who gets to touch you but touching your body isn’t my priority, your soul is. As you touch mine, when you came closer to me.
Your brown damned eyes, when hit sunlight, calls magic to me. And whenever you set your hair, my heart runs at a greater speed than ever. When you wrap your arms around me, it feels like home to me. Your touch is like a warmth of blanket on a cold Monday morning. Or maybe like a sip of water at 3 AM or maybe it’s just that feeling people write love novels about. When you laugh, your voice comes like a music to my ears, whenever you speak, it’s the voice of calmness, calming me, calming the world. What I feel is similar to what those plants feel when the old lady waters them after spending a weekend at her daughter’s. I don’t know what love is, but if somebody asks me the definition of it, I simply define your name.
I wish I could run to you and tell you how much I miss you, I wish I could hug you when I see you in the corridor, I wish I could pick up that bag for you because your back hurts, I wish I could.
~only if you loved me back.