That Girl in the Desk Next to Me

That Girl in the Desk Next to Me

She doesn't notice me.

I know that she doesn't notice me.

She just sits there, checking her phone

and twirling her hair.

With disdainful indifference

and not a care to spare,

she shuffles nonchalantly;

shifting in her chair.

Please don't think me odd,

Or even creepily fond.

Mostly I'm like a sad, pathetic fish

cowering in her pond.

I don't think of her in lust,

God knows I wouldn't dare.

But God damn the way she sits,

twirling her hair.

Then I start to worry 

that the worst will reach fruition.

What if she catches a glance?

Snags my lacking inhibitions?

But I know in my head that she'll never catch me,

she'll never interrupt my stare.

She'll just sit there indifferently,

twirling her fucking hair.