She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to grab his face and roughly press her lips to his. And after she would kiss him, she would pull back hand exhale forcefully, all that pent up tension leaking out of her and into the air.

She wanted to tell him that whenever she saw him, her heart stuttered and her mind would play the scene that she created in her head. And as she would stare at him, like a mirage, she would see herself march through the crowd, defiant and confident. Looking at him, her heart would pine and whine and she would force herself to look away, turn away, and not look back.

Her mind goes into overdrive when she sees him smile at her, glance at her. It's becoming harder to restrain her lips from parting and speaking the words she has rehearsed in her head for months now. And as she turns away yet again, her fingers twitch- an impulse being fought against. She swallows the words that she yearns to say, and settles for watching him smile at someone else instead.

She knows, if she ever got the chance to be his, that she would be clingy and jealous and possessive. She thinks this is because she has never gotten the chance to call someone else hers. When she sees him, and feels the rush of words press behind her sealed lips, she knows the intensity of emotion and the weight of the words on her tongue is because she is so deprived of the intimacy she craves. She feels him walk by rather than see or hear him. She locks her limbs and holds her tongue, bracing herself against the waves of fresh emotion.

There was someone, she remembers, long ago, but that was when she was foolish and naive about love and lust and hormones. She doesn't remember his name now, the big boned boy with a quiet voice and a tender heart- how can she, when it meant nothing? Now, looking at her new infatuation, the object of her desire, she knows that she is not naive anymore. Oh, and it's so obvious that she has a secret, behind her moon eyes and dramatic sighs. She doesn't speak, but her body language is screaming. Her heart pounds and her blood races and she yearns to reach out and tell him.

But all this remains behind closed lips.