I Sketch Mirrors

this weird thing is happening

there is a boy next to me

I'm walking, and he is right there,

by my very side

looking at me

mimicking me

i tilt my head while I'm running

to secretly look beside me

he's there!

running in the same pace

i speed, so as to mix it all up

but his feet don't miss a beat

while sitting, i sketch mirrors

as i suspect, he is there

chin on my shoulder 

looking down at our reflection on the paper

but through the side of my eye i can see

that he is not looking at our reflection

but straight at me,

while i sleep

i think he stays by me

because when i wake up,

that state between sleep and not,

his hands are on his chin,

by my bedstead

like a little child that is excited,

eagerly waiting for our day

to begin again

it's been weeks

he won't leave

this weird thing is happening

there is a boy next to me

maybe, maybe