A Winter Night in Ohio

He lifts the beer up to his mouth for what seems like the hundredth time this hour.
I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. Would his lips taste like beer after drinking for thirty years? Would he have his own taste that nothing could cause?

I wish I knew.

His green eyes are always looking around the room. He's not really looking for anything or anyone, he just does it. Always have he done that. Always have I wanted those eyes to be looking at me.

I wish I was always caught in his sight.

Sometimes, his eyes would turn toward me. My breathing stops then and I wait for him to do something. He'd either laugh at something I said or how I look, say something himself, or just smile and go back to looking around the room. Would I turn blue if he didn't turn away?

I wish he would look at me until my lungs exploded.

One of his hands is holding his beer. The other one will rest on his thigh or on the table. I know for a fact that his hands are soft but not baby bottom soft and not as rough as sandpaper.
Nothing would be better than to grab his hand and hold it tightly.

I wish I could hold his hand.

My wish list can go on forever. I wish that I kissed him when I was given the many chances. I wish I kissed him on the pool table at Drew's. I wish I didn't have to sleep on the couch that night. I wish he knew that my love for him wasn't brotherly. I wished he loved me the same way.

Above all, I wish I was brave enough just to tell Lewis how I really feel.