If This Isn't Love..

Approaching her, then retreating. Over and over again, it felt slowly maddening. How could a girl make him feel such intense emotions without even touching him? He rolled the thought repeatedly but could not reach a conclusion. The more she brought him into her world, the more he didn't want to leave it. The fear bit him, yet he always found himself wandering back to where she patiently awaited him with a sweet smile. She couldn't possibly be real. It had to be a persona, yet he knew men sought after her in real-time. Men didn't need to try hard, yet males seemed to strive for her affection. Bittersweet, that's what she was to him. He had to know the truth, but how? Fear gripped him. Intimidated by such a tiny woman? A nervous laugh escaped him, humming as he shook his head. Why did she look at him with such admiring eyes? He wasn't special, nothing too extraordinary. What if she grew bored with him? She always escaped with creativity and passion at every turn. Could he keep up with her? Yet she was always willing to call and be there for him. She'd attempt her very best to console him at the drop of a pin. How could he repay her, as she always offered him a place in her life without asking for anything in return? Even after days where he offered barely little in conversation, days where he said nothing, at the end of silence, she welcomed his return with open arms. He felt selfish to keep her to himself, yet he wanted nothing more than to hide her bright light from everyone else. Yet he couldn't; he couldn't cage such a beautiful soul as hers. So, as usual, he watched and approached before retreating with these aching thoughts.