Acting Cool

Sun, 05/20/2018 - 10:42 -- fyates

 

You’ll never know how nervous I was to hold your hand the first time. I was trying to act cool. Like I wasn’t on fire or about to faint. It wasn’t even a special circumstance. It wasn’t even about us. We were in a large group and they asked us all to take each other’s hands. I was holding someone else’s hand with my left. But I didn’t notice them. I don’t remember them at all. Not even slightly. I just remember you to my right. I didn’t look at you. I was so nervous. I thought my body was going to explode. And your hand was right there. I was surprised when I could move mine towards yours. I couldn’t actually feel it at the time. So it was weird that it responded to my wants so easily. I slipped my fingers into your palm slowly and it just fit there. Like you welcomed it as normal. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Except that I could feel every millimeter of my hand now. Even the pores that were profusely sweating. That wasn’t normal or natural. But it was amazing. I was burning from the inside out. My hand was going to fall off. My arm was going to leave with it. And I was trying to not let it show on my face. I was trying to act cool. And we finished whatever activity we were doing and I swear I wanted to keep you so badly. But I let you go. My fingers fell. A bit slowly because... Well. I didn’t really want them to fall at all. But I was acting cool. Like it didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t sure. Right then. That I loved you. And it must’ve worked, since you never noticed how much I felt for you. Because you wondered if I wanted you then. And you dismissed your feelings like they weren’t reciprocated. So I guess, now I wish I hadn’t been so cool.

This poem is about: 
Me

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