He only kisses her cheek because she pushes it toward him and purses her lips,
He looks at the ground while he smacks his lips at the air,
Only touching her cheek with his, but her lips on his cheek.
He doesn’t put his hand on her waist because she hasn’t asked him to,
Not out of chivalry but out of fear,
Fear that he’s overstepping a line and he’ll be labeled,
Labeled as an opportunist, or a misogynist, but of course he won’t be.
It would be perfectly normal but not in his eyes, for his lack of confidence destroys any normality that should come with a usual social interaction,
But he does wish.
He does wish that the corners of their mouths might graze briefly, just once,
And that they might share eye contact about it afterward, saying no words but a thousand things in the way that they look at each other and he’ll wish that she’d take his feelings from that brief, physical and innocent interaction that he thinks of her daily.
That he cares for her, though they do not speak regularly, nor are in each other’s company often.
And that’s only hello.
Goodbye is a hug and he keeps it brief,
Careful not to over-linger for exactly the same reasons as before,
He bends slightly at the waist and leans in with his collar bones as not to appear intentionally over intimate.
He says goodbye to the ground and tells her that it’s good to see her,
He calls her ‘mate’ as not to come off affectionate with words like ‘darling’ or ‘lovely’ or ‘sweetheart’ and he walks away wondering.
Wondering what it would have been like had he looked her in the eye and told her the thoughts he has,
Innocent and sweet, though they are,
He doesn’t tell her for the same reasons as before, and he beats himself up.
He beats himself up for his lack of courage,
His lack of confidence,
His probable lack of appeal,
And he’ll never be wholesome.
He’ll never be wholesome, happy nor satisfied because he doesn’t have the guts to go after what he desires, no matter what it is.