Poetry

He sees her
across a crowded room.
A beautiful lovely,
that he dares not touch.
He imagines
that he has the nerve
to go up and kiss her on the lips.
He lies in bed and has conversations with her
in his head.
A beautiful lovely,
as he closes his eyes,
he dreams of her
and how they could be.
And as he wakes,
he swears
he can still feel her touch.
The beautiful lovely
across the room
doesn't even know he exists.
He bids a silent good-bye,
knowing they could never be.

He should have been her everything.