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What You Never Noticed

Pakhi Pagare

 

I wish you noticed that I tuck my hair behind my ears because,

otherwise, my hair falls uncomfortably to the sides of my forehead and panic strikes.

All of a sudden my glasses slide, my shirt fits ill, and my pants are too short.

But you think I look pretty and so I let you untuck the strands securing my sanity.

 

I wish you noticed that there is always a crescent shaped chipping in my nail polish on my left thumb carved by my middle finger nail

Because of my chronic habit of picking little dead pieces of skin on my lips and then slowly removing them since bouncing my legs is not enough to relieve my bubbling anxiousness.

So, I apply thick coats of vaseline before bed and put on my favorite glosses before leaving so my lips can stay soft and smooth.

But you lick every coat off with each kiss the second I put it on.

 

I wish you noticed that I keep my hands out of my pockets

when I get upset with you so that you can make amends

by holding them and sharing your pocket with me.

But instead, my fingers paralyze and turn purple, and so does my heart.

 

I wish you noticed that I wanted to unravel my whole life

and share my darkest truths with you.

We could have sat on the black metal benches on the walk to class,

on the bus, in the library, or the dining hall.

But you wanted to be in my room, to watch movies,

and sleep until it was time to go to class.

 

The things you did ‘notice’ were all the things even a stranger could see.

You never wanted to know me, to observe and analyze me, to learn me.

And now it’s too late to say you want me to be your study.

 

 

 

Pakhi Pagare is a sophomore and a communications major. She is from Sayreville, New Jersey.