I became aware one day.
I am not sure of it, even now
of how it felt in my gut
alive on my tongue,
when I knew.
It was a slow decision,
the works of months and agonising
Yet you were oblivious to my self inflicted torture.
You are still oblivious now.
I watched you
from a distance and up close.
I was (am) aware of your every movement.
The alcohol burned in your veins
made you talk, or at least more so than before
and I did not hesitate to take the position on your knee
and smile when you told me I was beautiful.
I can remember the burn of the blush on my face.
And in that same instant
you have me and the others your insecurities.
They made nothing of it,
you were just a boy like them
worrying over silly things.
But I saw you then, like I had only saw you once before:
the time when your gait had been dulled by fatigue,
your feet red and raw from the sharp rocks
and you told us your fear
(that we did not truly want you as our friend)
and I told you there was nothing to fear.
With us, you are the glue.
I am everyday to ensure you do not fear the same again.