Emotions translating into thoughts,
the constant click-clacking of the radiator,
glancing at you from across the room but you’re not looking back,
and I’m afraid of breaking the tense silence between us,
too coy to address the obvious.

What you want, ​
what I want:

How you’re feeling,
how I’m feeling:

Minutes turning into hours,
echoing thoughts of should have,
the faint scent of perfume, the loud ticking of my watch,
a distant bus passing by,
the moon glowing through the shades at midnight
and not a word has been said,
only a silent consensus as to how things ought to be
and hesitation.