When You Love Above Yourself

He was amazing. I could sit and listen and follow along as his brain churned out the most complex ideas and insightful revelations.

I pretended not to trace the lines of this body with my eyes, memorizing them so my dreams would be more accurate. I turned my eyes away quickly enough from him to feign mere friendship, laughing at the right times, joking back, not expecting anything more than a smile.

Then he would wrap his arm around his girlfriend and give her a quick kiss and gaze lovingly into her eyes. She would banter with him and share inside jokes I was not privy to while giving me the sweetest smile and offering me drinks and cookies.

I'd eat and drink and take them both in. I'd watch their interactions and judge their relationship, deciding whether it was true love or a quick infatuation. Clues would turn up, in their actions, in rumors from others, and in their public messages.

I would never reach high enough to touch him. I was born below. The evidence was in their condescending smiles.