You are not my love

I see you looking at me.

Your gaze, lingering.

Watching me.

Wanting me.

 

But I am not yours.

I promised you nothing.

I owe you dust.

You should see that.

 

My eyes, they animate.

I smile, I buzz.

It is not our secret language.

These are not stolen glances.

 

For I am skittish.

I am romantic.

Locked in place, in lieu of constant release.

And you still do not wield the key

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