You’ll never hear me say “Kiss me.” I will never tell you to do anything or ask for something you don’t want to give me of your own free will.
You’ll never hear me tell your friends that I like you, maybe even love you. There’s no point in them knowing if you yourself can’t see it.
You’ll never hear my heart beat faster when I read a note from you, or when you break your promise to me.
You’ll never hear me cry when you pass me by, unknowing of my true feelings for you.
You’ll never hear about how excited I was to know that you were excited to see me, that you enjoyed spending time with me.
You’ll never hear the noise my heart makes when you laugh at my witty comments or when you include me in a conversation I really have no business being in.
You’ll never hear me call your name in the night; your obliviousness to my plight wouldn’t even allow your brain to register that I uttered a sound.
You’ll never hear the sounds of my churning stomach when I think that you just might be thinking of me, when I realize that you did think of me for one bright moment.
You’ll never hear me complain about you to my girlfriends, for in my eyes you are infallible.
Infallible except that you seem to be completely unaware that I can’t stand to be away from you.
But you’ll never hear me say that.
Because I’m chicken shit.