She’s just a girl

What a cliche it all is.
That while you stood there, I stared.
That when you smiled, I crushed.
That when you laughed, it was like a tinkling of beautiful gems.

What a cliche I am.
That I could not resist.
That I couldn’t not stare.
That I couldn’t not catch my breath every time you looked my way.

And now there’s two roads; two paths to choose.
Does the bad girl ever win.
Does she simply stand in the shadows.
Does she stammer out words and watch them escape, unheard.
Or write another crappy poem about the one that got away?

And if she said all she felt.
Could she possibly make you melt.
Take a stand and take a chance.
Take her words and make them count.
Let her sweep those feet she adores off the ground she stands firm.

And if her words she did keep.
To herself and not a sound breath.
Would you then read them in her eyes.
For it’s no secret when she looks at you.
It’s not hard to discern when she smiles at you.
It can’t be wisdom to realise all she feels for you.

And if this knowledge is so evident.
Yet your lips remain sealed.
your thoughts forever a mystery.
Is the conclusion not yet another cliche?