My love for you is quite like a melancholic story. I’m sure I’ve fallen for you, and I’m falling for you again, and again, yet it seems like you’re blind to it. Or am I trying too hard to keep it a secret behind the jokes and laughs we share? The way you string your words together, I keep them all in my heart, like my tightly fisted hand clutching to the loose change in my pocket. But of course, your gaze passes right by me, I can tell. She’s a special one. Outspoken, wild, and beautiful. But what am I to you, when it seems as if she’s all the Seven Wonders of the World in comparison? I feel like I’m the breeze, rustling through your hair whilst your lips twist into that delicate smile of yours. Is it selfish of me to want a little more than this? -Anon.
Posted on: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 22:10:43 +0000
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