You'll never see me.

I sit in the back of the class, with the end of a pencil in my mouth. I leave teeth mark indents on the sides, and make gross faces from the taste when I snap back to reality.

You'll never understand.

I watch you from my seat on the opposite side of the class as you work diligently, and walk up to the board to write the answer the teacher requested. I know you made a mistake in your solution in that equation, but I keep quiet, and smile when you realize it yourself.

You'll never really hear me.

I say hello, and we exchange words, but you'll never hear what I wish I could express to you. Somethings cannot be said, and it frustrates me that I can't share my thoughts with you.

You'll never like me.

I wear awkward clothes, and my hair is always a bit too long. I look shaggy, and I'm too skinny. I'm not very outspoken, and I usually keep to myself. You're gorgeous, and make friends easily. You try with me, but it's hard to show you who I really am. I make a fool of myself.

You'll never want me.

You have girls falling at your feet, and you have endless futue possibilities. I would drag you down. I want to be a dancer, and you want to be a musician. Same field, but completely different worlds. But sometimes I imagine you'd write songs for me that I would dance to just for you.

You'll never believe me.

If you could ever by chance tell me you loved me, I'd tell you I love you more. I know you'd shake your head and tell me I'm lying, but you don't know how my heart aches for you. That beautiful smile, and wonderful voice.

You'll never hold me.

I like to imagine one day you'd wrap me in your arms, and we'd drift off together under some tree in the after noon. The shade would protect us, and the air would be warm enough that we could wear t-shirts, but cool enough that we wouldn't be uncomfortable. You'd hold me against your chest, and rest your chin on my shoulder. I'd dream peacefully, and wake up to your lips on my skin.

But you'll never see me.

Even if you look at me, you never really see me. You see my presence, but you don't see me. You'll never see me. Not the way I want you to see me. Not the shaggy haired, skinny boy who chews his pencil at the back of the class and pays more attention to the beautiful man who sits by the window in the second row than he pays attention to the lesson. You'll just see your classmate who doesn't speak much, and likes to write instead of talk to people at lunch.

But at least there's eye contact.