You put on your headphones and press play. The soft tune of the piano fills your ears. Your friend asks you what you’re listening to. What do you say when, no matter how hard you try, all you can hear is him?
He’s smart and sweet. His smile is crooked and his fingers are rough. He hates it when his hair is long. He fiddles with his mouth and neck when he’s bored. He’s loud and stubborn and honest and commanding. People flock to him for leadership.
But he’s also kind and human. He takes on too much and pushes you away. He confuses you because nobody else argues back.
He is never gone from your thoughts.
You can always hear the sound of a laugh and subtle finger touch. It’s the sound of a baited vulnerability and a simple joy as the words stumble out in a simple plea. It’s when he looks down and refuses to reject you. Something filled you up that day. Something like a lifeline when the rest of your world is collapsing around you.
The soft symphony of shared oranges and warmth in the cold of the winter. In hazy anxiety soothed by unknowing fingers. When you don’t hold on tight enough because you think it will last.
It’s the memories of the bumbly first kiss, which, despite not being objectively good, could not have felt more amazing. As your head leans against his shoulder, you smile into his shirt and everything in that moment is okay. You turn around at the thrum of the fountain and the splash of drunk college girls getting in even though it’s four p.m. And you grin. And he grins. And though it’s not normal, it’s perfect. And he drives you home and you can’t remember the last time you were this happy.
It’s the death metal screams as something you never quite understood gets ripped away before you go. It’s the last straw that breaks the camel's back. It’s the hope and plans you never got to make. It’s smudged eyeliner and black stained fingertips. It’s when you turn up the volume to choke back the pain on a bus ride home with his two words echoing in your head: “I can’t.” It’s the ache to be close to him through it all. It’s holding on to the shredded frays of a filter. It’s his presence in everything you do and everything you make. It’s the angry comedy of everyone knowing but him.
It’s the quiet of the not knowing and the feeling in your chest that never really goes away. When you aren’t nervous anymore, just sad. It's a desire for more but the attempts at acceptance.
It’s the several kisses with other people that follow, though more experience doesn’t really make it better. It’s the way you do everything to remove that feeling but it still won’t go away. It’s when you pull your hair because you know it’s stupid though it’s never felt that way. It’s the verses of a poem you wrote one night. It’s the betrayal of a mind that shows him to you in every dream you ever have.
It’s a melody of overreaction and stolen looks and friendship thriving. It’s the eye roll of another. It’s your feeble attempts at explaining why you can’t let go. It's a prayer for any emotion from him. The smell of him filling you up whenever he’s near.
It’s the quiet of a room on the few occasions you get him all to yourself. How even when he drives you crazy, you still long for those moments. It’s the smiles from across the room that you wish were just for you.
It’s empty lips mouthing a forgotten song. Late night urges of revelations that you hold in because it would ruin everything that you managed to hold on to. It’s words that mean nothing because eyes give it all away. Deep ones that are unnerving at first but become the most beautiful you can see. You gaze deep into them, wishing you could decipher anything that would strengthen the flimsy hope in your heart. Because maybe, just maybe, he could love you back. The twist of a smile and answering of a phone means it’s true. When you’re laughing and talking with him and it’s everything you ever wanted but it’s not true.
Because he’s just a friend. A friend who’s muffled voice flows through the speaker and you don’t want it to end but you have to hang up.
It’s songs that still don’t really make sense but you understand a little more now. It’s a feeling you don’t think you know. It’s humming a four letter word to yourself and plans you won’t follow through on. It’s trying your hardest and singing silently.
Because you love him. And it hurts. Wow, it hurts. It hurts to be away from him. It hurts to be near him. It hurts to want what you can’t have. It’s the prickles of salt in your eyes trying to overflow.
It’s when your friend looks at you expectantly because you stared off into space for ten minutes when they asked a simple question.
Oops.
You’ll just say you’re listening to Taylor Swift.
He’s smart and sweet. His smile is crooked and his fingers are rough. He hates it when his hair is long. He fiddles with his mouth and neck when he’s bored. He’s loud and stubborn and honest and commanding. People flock to him for leadership.
But he’s also kind and human. He takes on too much and pushes you away. He confuses you because nobody else argues back.
He is never gone from your thoughts.
You can always hear the sound of a laugh and subtle finger touch. It’s the sound of a baited vulnerability and a simple joy as the words stumble out in a simple plea. It’s when he looks down and refuses to reject you. Something filled you up that day. Something like a lifeline when the rest of your world is collapsing around you.
The soft symphony of shared oranges and warmth in the cold of the winter. In hazy anxiety soothed by unknowing fingers. When you don’t hold on tight enough because you think it will last.
It’s the memories of the bumbly first kiss, which, despite not being objectively good, could not have felt more amazing. As your head leans against his shoulder, you smile into his shirt and everything in that moment is okay. You turn around at the thrum of the fountain and the splash of drunk college girls getting in even though it’s four p.m. And you grin. And he grins. And though it’s not normal, it’s perfect. And he drives you home and you can’t remember the last time you were this happy.
It’s the death metal screams as something you never quite understood gets ripped away before you go. It’s the last straw that breaks the camel's back. It’s the hope and plans you never got to make. It’s smudged eyeliner and black stained fingertips. It’s when you turn up the volume to choke back the pain on a bus ride home with his two words echoing in your head: “I can’t.” It’s the ache to be close to him through it all. It’s holding on to the shredded frays of a filter. It’s his presence in everything you do and everything you make. It’s the angry comedy of everyone knowing but him.
It’s the quiet of the not knowing and the feeling in your chest that never really goes away. When you aren’t nervous anymore, just sad. It's a desire for more but the attempts at acceptance.
It’s the several kisses with other people that follow, though more experience doesn’t really make it better. It’s the way you do everything to remove that feeling but it still won’t go away. It’s when you pull your hair because you know it’s stupid though it’s never felt that way. It’s the verses of a poem you wrote one night. It’s the betrayal of a mind that shows him to you in every dream you ever have.
It’s a melody of overreaction and stolen looks and friendship thriving. It’s the eye roll of another. It’s your feeble attempts at explaining why you can’t let go. It's a prayer for any emotion from him. The smell of him filling you up whenever he’s near.
It’s the quiet of a room on the few occasions you get him all to yourself. How even when he drives you crazy, you still long for those moments. It’s the smiles from across the room that you wish were just for you.
It’s empty lips mouthing a forgotten song. Late night urges of revelations that you hold in because it would ruin everything that you managed to hold on to. It’s words that mean nothing because eyes give it all away. Deep ones that are unnerving at first but become the most beautiful you can see. You gaze deep into them, wishing you could decipher anything that would strengthen the flimsy hope in your heart. Because maybe, just maybe, he could love you back. The twist of a smile and answering of a phone means it’s true. When you’re laughing and talking with him and it’s everything you ever wanted but it’s not true.
Because he’s just a friend. A friend who’s muffled voice flows through the speaker and you don’t want it to end but you have to hang up.
It’s songs that still don’t really make sense but you understand a little more now. It’s a feeling you don’t think you know. It’s humming a four letter word to yourself and plans you won’t follow through on. It’s trying your hardest and singing silently.
Because you love him. And it hurts. Wow, it hurts. It hurts to be away from him. It hurts to be near him. It hurts to want what you can’t have. It’s the prickles of salt in your eyes trying to overflow.
It’s when your friend looks at you expectantly because you stared off into space for ten minutes when they asked a simple question.
Oops.
You’ll just say you’re listening to Taylor Swift.