There’s a kind of love that you don’t see in movies or read about in books because it goes unnoticed. It is a kind of love that flows gently and undetectably that one could perhaps say it was there yet never existed. This kind of love is almost as faint as air, maybe only noticeable with the rustle of the leaves as the air gently brushes through them. This is why you don’t hear about this kind of love. This is why they don’t write about it, because it’s silent and undisturbed, and one could even say… it almost never happened. Yet you, and only you, see it, and you wait until someone else sees it too. So that what was once were leaves falling are now flowers blooming. But you wait.
I see you walk past the rows and the shelves unable to find what you’re looking for, and you’re too stubborn to surrender your own quest to let someone else help you. Your hands slowly trail the rows of books until they finally stop. You stare intently at one of the shelves and I worry that you might have found what you were looking for, because this could mean your early departure. You pick out a book and stare at the cover for a few seconds before flipping it to read the summary at the back. I smile at the adorable way your handsome face fell from high anticipation to slight disappointment because the book did not seem to appeal to you, but I was curious to your decision to still give it a chance by flipping through the pages in the hopes that you might find that little detail you were looking for. I bite my lip as I watch the way the sunlight beaming through the windows kiss the side of your neck as you tilt your head while you read, and I could not contain my sigh of relief when you placed the book back on the shelf.
I see your eyes then travel across the library and in an unexpected fear I quickly look down at my book again but my eyes seem to only want to read you and so they find you marching to another row of shelves across the room and I still hope in that instance you’d finally notice me. But how could you when I look away every time you look up? I keep hoping you’d feel my presence. That some how by some mysterious force that brings all lovers together you’d feel that unexplainable pull towards me, and our eyes would finally meet. This is all I wanted. I wanted you to see me. I couldn’t walk up to you and let you know that I am here. No. because I have convinced myself that we are in a library and we cannot speak, and so I sit there…. With high hopes and expectations that our eyes will speak for us and you’d smile, and I’d shyly tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and you’d wave and I’d know… that you finally see me. This is all I wanted, for your eyes to find mine.
“Because we are all in a library and we cannot speak”, and so I bite my lip and love you in silence and I wait… until you finally find what you’re looking for. And this perhaps, is the worst and best kind of love. This library love.