Your silence caught me out of guard

,,whose book is it? Hmm, what's with asking?" Another day were reality slaps right into my face. And leaves a deep, regeretting remark. Your smile doesn't face me, it faces the book. It's not an: ,,I find it amusing", one. I know how you look when you are embarassed. You always don't look at me in the eyes and smile, when you try, to diffuse tension. What are you scared of? I used to be, no, not scared, I used to be gentle trying to be gentle to you. Definetly my loudness, openness*, or my extravagantness*, or maybe I need to just admit that I've gotten louder, because now It's not me blushing every once you look at me and suddenly the air looks nice, no it's you looking all the way around to try to find An Escape.