My eyes were trained on his own more than his work,

His hands moving like silk across blank paper.

I wish he noticed my own, maybe sliding in a smirk,

Instead of hiding his thoughts through his japers.

His taste in pastimes, I relate to quite well,

Knowing that they are my own.

But when he talks to her, in my head rings a bell,

And it feels like my heart has gone away, thrown.

My smile fades when I see him bidiurnal,

Exploiting himself with his own peers.

Thumping out of my chest, blood pumping internal,

The sound of my teardrops drowned out by his cheers.

Alas, when I look back on my days that came to quick ends,

Though he doesn’t see me that way, I’m glad to consider him a friend.