the unbearable wish

through the window of my bedroom I see Paul, he takes off his shirt everyday at six thirty, which is exactly 45 minutes after I get home from school. The other day I saw Paul at the groceries store, he was wearing that brown shirt that matches his eyes, he asked me if I knew where the chicken broth was, why would he want to know that? was he sick? was his girlfriend sick? Does he even have a girlfriend? My eyes went straight to his tattoo, he has cross on his left arm, I always get drawn to the little tip that gets out his shirt's sleeve. He thinks I'm a weirdo, and maybe I am - you'd be a weirdo for Paul as well - "second row", I said after staring for about 4 seconds. I wish I could just tell him, I can always say everything, I'm not a nerd, not a weirdo... only when he looks at me, as if some sort of spell was cast on me every time I see his eyes, his light brown eyes, like fire on a train track (train track? yeah, that's the image I see when he looks at me), like a train on fire, and I'm inside, burning, but it doesn't matter because he's looking at me, all I see, in the midst of all that fire, are Paul's eyes. All I see are his dashing eyes, for all eternity in his eyes, four seconds. One day I saw Paul at the library, he was reading "The unbearable lightness of being", only him would read literature at a library, well, him and me. He had a hoodie on, so simple yet so complex, how could a creature so mundane seem so angelic to me? His thin pointed nose, those strong shaped lips, high cheeks... not to mention his long fingers flipping through those pages, he would caress his head and touch his hair... to touch his hair...He looked at me and smile, you would think I could not deserve a smile but, like I said, I'm no freak. I just happen to have this urge to get inside his chest forever and stay there, comforted by his weakness and threatened by his strength, wander his thoughts and most shameful desires, speak with Paul's voice, touch with Paul's hands, hear his music but, most of all, see with Paul's fiery eyes. I wish there was a door to Paul's world, to his soul, wish I could consume Paul and all his essence, wish I could be Paul. I wish Paul was real.