Abbigail H.
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His eyes look at me. The soft blue of them staring into mine unsettles me deeply, prodding into my mind. His blank expression further bothers me. I fight the urge to squirm under his gaze. I look at him. I look away. Just for a moment. I look back. He notices. I can tell. Something in his eyes has changed. What did they look like before? Were they open and now they're closed? Are they disappointed, hurt, uncaring, amused? What does he see in my face? Am I giving him the same reaction he's giving me: this warm safety that is too revealing? Does he know? A squeal I barely suppress lifts up the corners of my mouth into a half-hearted smile. It goes away. I can't be smiling at him. My smile isn't pretty. It looks weird on my face.
He smiles back and my stomack starts throwing a little party. My face relaxes and I smile back, but he's looking away. The television has drawh his attention yet again. I've blown it. I didn't stud nim. He doesn't like me. This is ruined. I might as well give up now. Love will never greet me the way I chase it. No, not it: him.
I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
I don't want to fall to pieces
Just want to sit and stare at you
I don't wasnt to talk about it
And I don't want a conversation
Just want to cry in front of you
And I don't want to talk about it
'Cause I'm in love with you
This was part of a writing exercise for my Creative Writing class. I'm not sure that I accomplished what I was supposed to, but it feels good to get this out. Probably take it down later, though.
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