When she dances, her sails blow in the wind.
Like a ship cruising at sea, gently gliding to her destination.
When she smiles, it’s like the heavens open up to the world and bless us with the rainbows and starlight.
And then she speaks. And it’s like hearing the song of a siren,
Drawing me in.
But she doesn’t know it.
Does she?
I don’t think so.
I don’t think she knows how it feels to be me.
So wonderfully enthralled by her presence.
Desperately wanting her to look my way.
A smile, a wave, a fleeting glance,
just so I know that she knows that I’m alive.
But she doesn't.
I don't think she does.
I doubt she ever really will.
She walks her world with a golden cloud above her head.
She surrounds herself with goddesses equally as beautiful and radiant and perfect as she is.
She doesn't notice me at all.
AIt's 15:43.
She looks at me and smiles.
I turn around, expecting to see another Superwoman behind me.
I turn back.
Her head is cocked to the side and wrinkled-nose smile turns into a heart-melting giggle.
She's walking towards me.
I can feel the sweat gathering in my hands,
the heat rising to my face.
She sees me.
Oh, my God.
She sees me.
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