From sentiments to sediments

I lay awake at night sometimes thinking of the boy who lived down the road. And all his efforts to keep me away. He is afraid of his attraction to something he doesn't quite adore. He is afraid to get to close to something he might actually enjoy. I never asked to be so important as to be avoided. I only tried to be a friend. My persistent conversation was far too apparent and so He left me with no reason.  

I was a little rude. But I was young and didn't know how else to talk with you. Now i wish we could reunite as real friends, not as a "little girl" begging for attention.

My birthday marks a day your dog died. You broke my young heart when you said you couldn't talk to me too often. So, I knew my place and my role and I stuck to it really well. But heart-to-hearts were not flat, I wanted you to know how I felt. 

Years later and you're on my porch and we are talking like friends. Years later and you still don't want to show you care. Years later and I'm still stuck behind while you live your life and forget my eyes. 

So why did you do that? Show up out of the blue at the cafe to remind me that you exist? To remind me that I can't talk to you? To remind me that I'm perpetually battling the year of my birth? And there you come beaming with that wide eyed gaze that I swear you reserve for only those you've loved. I left you alone and now the consequence is that when I see you my heart still aches, and it does so into the night, under the moon and back over the sun and through the clouds. And through those clouds there is still the mystery of you and us if you would ever let it. I swear I'm old enough now not to meet you with anger. I swear I'm old enough to share experience. I swear I'm ready to meet your gaze and be "that situation" you've always wanted. I still live on a quiet street where your grandmother sometimes walks, she tells me that you liked me once and my heart says, "I like you again". You see, I always said goodnight even if abruptly following a "hello". I did so just so that you'd know...I'm here. 

But that's the end now isn't it? True love isn't real and if it were it sure isn't on time. 

You see, I don't have time to wait. Not for wide eyes that have no words, not for hesitant crushes or sentimental heartbreakers. I quit on that kind of love: the kind that spits in my face with every empty invitation, disappointment that I'm not my brother or primitive fear of my age difference. I'm off to a higher plane.