It’s not like in the movies, let me promise you that.
In the movies,
the girl always gets the boy –
sometimes it’s the one she started out
liking, sometimes it’s a different boy. But
there’s always a happy ending.

Sometimes there are glimmers of hope.
He glances at me and there’s a look
in his eyes;
a look which makes my stomach flip.
He talks to me for hours
and we never stop once, not even when
we run out of things to say.
He hugs me for
just a tiny bit longer
than normal, or says
he likes my dress.

But normally
it’s just nothing
after nothing
after nothing.
Because deep down, I know
he sees me no differently from
all the other girls.

Sometimes I wonder
if he has any hormones.
He’s oblivious to the effect he has
on girls. I, however, am painfully aware of it.

I see the way they flirt with him, twirling
their hair and biting their lip, and
it kills me inside because I know
one day
he’ll choose one of them.
It’s a waste of time, really.

Sometimes I think about
the things we could do if we were
together.
He could take me walking
along the river at night.
I could wear his jumper, and
lace my fingers into his.
We could have little jokes
and share chips
and watch the sunset.

I dream about him and me
and I know that if we ever made that step
something amazing would happen.

He just feels right, you know?