Absolute Magnitude
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Summary: He's been falling his entire life. So has she. But maybe together they can be each other's balloons. Shameless romance. NaruHina.
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Poem one
She's there, sitting on the front porch.
Hair blowing in the wind. Eyes that light up like the moon.
You stare at her. Again. She glances in your direction.
Quickly looking away, picking up a rock.
You feel awkward, shy. You're never shy.
But with her, you are. Because her opinion seems to matter.
It matters a lot.
You take a step forward-no-quickly take two back.
Throat's too tight. Chest too painful. Why are your cheeks warm?
She does that to you.
Swallow. Breathe. Relax.
You can do this. Why? You're Naruto Uzumaki, future Hokage, future hero of Konoha, future...
rejectee.
It's too hard. You...you can't do it.
Walking away, pretending to promise yourself that you'll do it tomorrow.
You know you won't. Throw the rock away, glance back.
She's still sitting there, waiting.
Waiting for what?
Poem Two
He comes every day (morning and night)
But he doesn't say hi, but you're not surprised.
No one would want to say hello to you.
Yet, he doesn't seem like all the others.
He's different.
Like a star he shines. Glows. Breathtaking.
You want to talk him (oh, how badly you do), but you can't.
It hurts inside when you imagine talking to him, getting closer to him...
letting him in.
Because even if he's all like the others (and you know he is), there's the fear.
The tiny crawling fear that gnaws at your heart, chews it up, and spits out any confidence you ever had.
Stealing a glance at him, hiding the disappoint that he's not looking at you (why would he anyway?)
He'd rather stare at a rock than look at you (which he is, oh the cruel irony).
So you sigh, and pick at your dress. But you don't leave. You sit there, waiting.
Because even with the fear, there's...a tiny bit of hope.
So small, it's almost miniscule (but it's there).
He might come talk to you one day (please). And if he does...
you'll be there.
Poem Three
It's pitiful, really. How similar Naruto and Hinata are.
Both lost souls, both beaten, tired, and cold.
He wonders how people can be so cruel, but the world isn't a nice place.
No, no, no.
He knows that, but sighs, puffed smoke billowing out, and floating gently around his paperwork.
All he can do, though, is sit back and watch.
Because even though he is the Hokage, and has an all-seeing crystal ball,
it can't see everything.
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A/N: My new story, told in free-verse poetry. Like it?
...Thoughts?