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“Who is it about?”
	You. It’s always been you. For months. Worth more than gold, weighing less than mud are my thoughts. Months of downplaying, cast aside, thrown to the pigs. You. It always came back to you. With your silky hair, long and dark. Soft to the touch, like one would imagine a cloud's. Your eyes, dark as midnight, calming to any heart or panicking mind. Midnight eyes, sparkling in the starlight. Capturing one’s vision and not letting go. You captured my vision, my mind, and my heart, and you don’t seem to want to let go. Your smile that lights up my whole world. Fireworks go off every time I see you smile. One thought burned through my brain: Why is it you? I have always gotten over it. You’re just different. Fear courses through my veins every time I see you. Fear that I will hear your voice. Fear that I won’t. I cannot tell which would be worse. Fear that you’ll see her. Fear that you won’t see me. Except that you never do. You’ve never truly seen me. You see her, you only care about her. I’ve never been more than a complement to her existence in your eyes. Go ahead and ask, “Who is it about?” Your answer will always be, with no hesitation… Nobody.

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