I sit and at my desk and I look,
Not at the teacher, the board, or the book -
But at you, always at you, my obsession,
And within my heart I make a confession -
I love you. Adore you. I pine for you, too -
And you can't know, because I know what you'll do -
You'll think it's a joke, you'll hate me much more,
Or even worse – you might laugh, and that'll make the sore
Smart, hurt and ache a million time worse.
But you know what kills me? I simply can't force
Your beautiful face out of my mind,
Your silver grey eyes that are never kind,
Elegant body – languid of movements and slim,
And every thought of you is a mortal sin:
But I can't help myself, I can do naught,
I've denied it, tried to forget, even fought,
But you are a splinter in my bleeding heart,
A sharp silver arrow, a well-aimed iron dart.
The bell rings – you rise from your seat,
You walk towards me – my heart misses a beat,
'Follow me,' you say in your silky voice,
And your tone indicates I have no choice.
We walk outside and you turn – we're face to face,
I'm trying to hide my emotions – but your gaze is a mace,
'What d'you want?' I ask, and I'm shaking,
'You,' and the walls built by our hatred are breaking.