Choose Me

Look at him in that world I detest. It's not him. It's not the real him. With little effort he has immersed his self however. He has committed himself to that role, in that place, with those people, with that person. It fits him well. He doesn't fit it though. I see him. The real him. His quiet confidence. His gentle tone. His innocence and shyness. His uncertainties. That smile. That soothing smile. Like a baby I am hushed. Whenever he smiles I lose my words. He does it often, but rarely does it reach his eyes. It always reaches me though. I see right through it. He sees me too. But not the way I want him to. He knows I know who he really his. So he keeps his distance. It's a secret we keep. An understanding we have though we've never spoken the words, shook hands or pinky swore. We share laughs, inside jokes, words and moments. He is troubled. I sense it. I feel it. I see it in his eyes when he steals a moment from me. He watches me. I've caught his eye. But so has she. And she's louder and faster and oblivious. She's easier and freely giving. She'll never challenge him. She won't tell him the truth. She won't encourage him to be better or be the strength he needs when he is weak. She will take and take and never give. At least not what he needs. And he will let her. He tells me things. Things he'll never tell her or them. They don't get him. They don't notice him like I do. He keeps his distance, even when we are near. He is afraid of me. He is afraid that I will like him, accept him, see him as he is, do for him, love him, challenge him, better him. He does not know what to do with me. So he clings to her. She is superficial, demanding and needy. She will always give him a reason to stay. To need to stay. But I want him to want me. To know that he can live without me but never want to. I want him to not choose her, but I will never tell him so. Neither of us wants to be the first to say what we really feel. So we share glances and brush past each other in open spaces. Make excuses to be near while staying apart. And we watch. I watch. He watches to ensure I'm still here. Still available. I watch because she's so wrong. And I hate her for bringing him down. For tarnishing his style, his name, his swag. She is no good for him and he knows it. But he's not ready for me and he can't stand to be alone. A man has needs rights? So we watch. He watches to feel closer to me. I watch and imagine he will one day choose me.