It happened again today - this time I just couldn’t help myself. I stole a glance of you in class. My breath became quick and shallow as your head slowly began to droop and your eye lids rested themselves over your magnificent golden eyes. I could see that it would not be long before you allowed sleep to overcome you completely. Your Adonis like body relaxing itself until all that was left of my view was the top of your head laying between your crossed arms.

As I sat there it became hard not to let my mind wonder at the possibilities that could be if only you were to ever notice me. But we both know such a thing would never happen. After all, you are definitely not looking for a relationship wit the likes of me because you already have plenty of women, who throw themselves willingly at you, to hold between those strong arms and whisper sweet nothings to with that angelic voice. And how can I compete with such adoring creatures. I do not have the supple breasts or the amber locks of wavy hair that are so beautifully crafted on their picturesque bodies. They are women and that is what you desire - an area in where I bring no comparison and only contrast.

I am but a man. Whose pleading blue eyes are shadowed by chestnut hair that hides my burning desire for you. My body is nothing but a statue. My muscles and rock-like form offer nothing that a delicate flower can provide. I suppose to any other gay male out there I might be considered quite desirable. I have been told that I look like a boy trapped inside a man’s body.
Clearly filled out and well muscled for my eighteen years but never quite able to lose that childish naivety that comes with boyhood. If described best by someone else appearance I might say that I resemble Joshua Jackson. But all that does me no good because no matter how I look I still remain a man and you still remain completely untouchable.

We have grown up for years side by side in the same small town. You taking one path and I taking another.
Only to hide what I desire the most. Even when last year I told everyone about my sexual preferences I still found no solace. You seemed relatively unaffected by this tiny revolution in my world and on the inside that killed me. I guess it wasn’t that I expected you to come up and congratulate me and then maybe ask me out on a date because, I mean, come on, it isn’t like I am that delusional. And I suppose considering the group of friends that you run with, A.K.A. the people who have made my teenage years a living hell, you were pretty polite about the whole thing; meaning you didn’t take an active part in the lynching. But not even your ever cordial attitude is enough. I want to know the passion that lies beneath the complacent mask. I know there is more to you than the rest of the world is able to see. I know that you are playing but a role in this game of great expectations provided by society and your parents. I do not want the actor I yearn for on a daily basis. The one that captures the attention of the world when he walks into the room. There is someone raw and uncontrollable inside you and that’s the person I know