If I were to write a poem
It’d be about him
How his hair golden glistens
When the sun hits it right
How his smile makes me blush
And giggle within despite –
The fact he can’t seem me
At least not the way I prefer
Those beautiful eyes of his
Are unfocussed, they blur
No he’s not blind
Or so I don’t think
But what I’m sure he views
Is the image I’ve made sink
Not natural, not me
Not the person I can be
But conservative, shy and smart with a book
Dressed to impress and cares about looks
Throw her on stage and she’ll crumble – fall
Likes to blend in I seem to recall
Truth be told though the real me
Is in hiding
I’m not she
What I’d do to peel the shell
Maybe all, including him would then know
The whole damn time they’re been under my spell
If I could I would shout at top of my lungs
Show they my voice, sing aloud
Stand up and proclaim with all my might
Knock the socks off of a crowd
And maybe, just maybe even admit
I write poems all the time
About him.