You make me ill,

With your kind words

And not so secret stares.

I feel your gaze on my body.

It touches my face, my arms, and my chest.

We both know you aren’t hunting for my heart.

You do it when she’s not looking.

I try not to look either

But you’ve made it obvious

And I can’t ignore it.

I hate your look that, for all its weight,

Should hold volumes.

But that is one story I do not want to read.

I do not speak out.

I’m stopped by the realization

That they are only stares.

But I am not left untouched.