I see your eyes and the shape of your face,
the curve of your cheeks and the color of your hair,
and the way you look at pleasurable things and problematic things,
your nostrils flare and your lips arch,
your ecstatic eyes or furious furrows,
your popular posture and regal rapport.

I hear the words you say,
and yes,
you are funny and you are smart,
and you have made your people proud,
and I enjoy what flows from synapse sparks to lingual lips,
the staccato of your mind compounding and summarizing the universe,
you speaking to one with elevated intensity,
to another with suppressed tedium,
to another with respectful admiration.

You are human and valuable and quite important,
having done so much,
knowing so much,
loquacious in your mastery of life,
belle of the ball,
certainly pivotal in the unreeling of present time.

I saw you also drop your eyes when you saw me,
fake your smile when I tried a joke,
laughing to congeal with the vibe of your friends,
shifting the topic to your present one man show,
making sure I was buried in the expansiveness
of your preoccupation with them,
shutting me out with your socially acceptable primacy,
your impressive wit and your long time repoire
winning the hour.

I do not need you to like me.

I do not need you to like me.

I do not need you to like me.

Let me get out of the way so I do not block the light emanating from you, the sun.
You prefer me in the shadows, and I prefer myself in the shade as well.