We’re so obviously different.
In appearance, in height, in humor.
It’s clear that
I’m not him,
and he’s not me.
They walked together again today.
I tried,
but I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.
They were laughing,
talking about things so unfamiliar to me.
I would’ve loved to switch places with him,
to be him,
if only for a moment.
But I’m not him,
and he’s not me.
And if it ever could happen,
she wouldn’t treat me the same.
She wouldn't laugh with me or
share with me those things
she’s never told me before.
Because I'm not him.
I’ll never be him,
and he’ll never be me.
Writer's Statement: These poems are written expressions of all the things I never talk about with anyone. Talking about them isn't necessary though, because the looks on their faces after they've read it assures me that I've left some type of impact on them. All I want is to spread that impact.