It's Unfair.
The taunting
The unending want
How the stakes are mad so high.
You never notice me but secretly you are as aware as me.
I'm not alone in this standoff.
Your pouting lips and vivid eyes.
Eyes like a fox to its prey
Lips tracing pens, pencils, quills, knives and other utensils.
You change: your hair, you clothes, your moods.
I brood in madness.
It isn't fair.
The way his arms wrap you.
He plays with your hair.
Running his hands up and down your curves
Touching what isn't meant to be his.
He never deserved you.
Your spouts of laughter or your tempests of tears brought on by him, for him.
Your friends know and so does he.
The reason he scowls?
Me.
I had to make it fair.
With a press of chapped ice to smooth warmth I leveled the field.
I staked my bid
And with the twitch of your lips,
You raised.