I like him. But he doesn’t like me back. And everybody says— "If you keep talking to him, He’ll like you. Eventually." His friends say it, My friends say it, Even I... I say it to myself. Over and over, Like a lullaby I don’t believe in But hum anyway, Just to fall asleep. "If I keep talking to him..." Maybe he’ll notice The way I laugh at his jokes, Even when they’re not funny. Maybe he’ll see How I remember Every little thing he says Like it matters. Because to me— It does. Maybe he’ll feel it. The way I lean in A little closer Than I should. The way I listen Like his words are Scripture And I’m trying to be saved. But what if it’s not true? What if all I’m doing Is digging deeper Into a place I’ll have to crawl out of Alone? What if I’m just Loving him In the background— A soft sound He never really hears? What if I’m just Spending all my time Falling in love With a boy I already know Doesn’t feel the same? And if it is true— If one day he finally turns around, Finally sees me... Then why did it take So long? Why did I have to wait On the edge of maybe For months? Why did I have to shrink myself Into someone easier to love? Why did I have to whisper my feelings When they were screaming Inside me? Why did I have to convince myself That “almost” Was enough? Tell me— Why does love feel like a test I have to pass Just to be seen? Why does “maybe” feel more cruel Than “no”? I like him. And he doesn’t like me back. And maybe he never will. But I’m still here. Still talking. Still hoping. Still trying to believe That if I just keep reaching, He’ll reach back. Even when he hasn’t. Yet.