You walked into the classroom and I had tunnel vision. The only thing I could see was you. The moment you entered the same vicinity I couldn't breathe. You swept into my space, stealing all of my air. The remaining oxygen in my lungs was stuck there. The effect you have on me is like a deer in the headlights. Sheer panic.
I collapse on the inside after the initial reaction of your presence. Turning slowly into the mush that is brought by the sharp omnipotence that is you. There isn't enough room for me if there you are in all of your perfect glory. You and your dark glare and matching attire. So strong, so powerful. Being near you is sensory overload. Torn between fight or flight in the most animal response to adrenaline. And yet I stand still, just waiting for your words or dismissal.
Your voice is part of the vice that links me to you. Deep and smooth, like the blackest of silks with a little whiskey to saturate it. Your voice causes a combination of conniptions and seizures to overtake my heart all at once. No matter what it is that you say, I am enraptured by the perfect tones that accompany the words. The sound seems to scoop inside me and go straight to my core, reverberating down my spine. It incurs the most feral feelings in me.
Your eyes have the ability to draw me and take me hostage until the moment you decided to look away. I have no choice but to stare until you shatter my lifeline. They seem to express so much and yet nothing at all. The deepest shade of brown that makes them, in fact, black. Like tunnels that suck me in until all I can see is pitch blackness. And so I avoid eye contact with you because I can't help but believe that my eyes must be the door to my soul and that already with my poorly controlled reactions to you, you would be able to see your name written across my soul in large, block letters.
I can't speak to you. I'm too afraid of revealing my turmoil to you because you could never accept me. I, just another one of your idiotic pupils who, in their childishness, has hormone induced longings for you. I know how you see me. Your local snotty know-it-all. Originally, it was all for curiosity but then it turned into something all for you. A moron wouldn't fit you. An imbecile would be nothing but vile to you. My intelligence and ability to recite facts was a perk in my journey to demand your approval. I am well-behaved and mature. Just your type. And yet still, I am just another bane to your existence.
I can just imagine your sneer and cruel words of denigration. Yes, I imagine your unadulterated disgust and disregard. 'Go away, you silly girl, before you embarrass yourself further with your obsessive lovesick sentiments. I am not your boyfriend nor am I whatever romantic hero you have conjured in your head.' But I know that. You're rough, and angry, and sadistic. You're violent, aggressive, and malicious. You're my potions' professor, my world, my fantasized perfect future. Everything I had ever wanted for the past five years has always included you.
Brushing up against you as you pass me by is like being dunked into a pool of ice water. I freeze. Even as you're gone and the moment lasts a second. I'm zeroed into my own mind. Everything becomes blurred and faded. You're the flame of this unnatural scenery, as I am drugged by your very touch.
I want to break down. I want to scream. I don't want to feel alone without you anymore. I want to jump into your arms and kiss you. I want you to ram me into a wall hard and kiss me. I want you to appreciate me. I want you to react. I want you to want me.
Everything about you is marked and exquisite in my mind.
You are my dying dream.
"What are you all in need of an invitation? Get to work." Professor Severus Snape hissed to his 7th year potion's class. Everyone scuttled into movement as their last day of class before graduation began.
Our eyes met, and time froze.