𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉

14. Sadly I couldn't move

Columns of books and rows of desks,
The overly sweet lady by reception smiled.
Prior to this,
I had experienced this, similar.

It was the same as before,
But something feels altered.
What's so different?
That I couldn't have noticed afore.

This library,
I had seen this library before,
Sat in here and spend my time as reckless
Yet something was different.

Feeling something I haven't felt before.
My grip on the books tightens,
My legs wander but my thoughts wander more.
The pen in my hand is blue and the tip is sharp.

Eerily silence and beautiful ambiance,
Couldn't muster up even to let out a whisper,
Couldn't help but jump at even a rustle,
God, I'm such a coward.
(Will I be accepted by this world?)

What's so new?
What's so different?
What's making my heart race?
What's my pulse chasing for?
(Damn! I should sprint because this library is unnecessarily long)

And oh my lord, where is this guy now?
I like him but isn't this a lot?
Would he only keep me wrapped around finger like this?
I walked the whole school just to find him hiding.

But I was raised fighter!
I don't quit,
I don't bow to anyone-

There was he,
The man I longed and yearned.
He was sitting in the corner,
The farthest, out of reach.

Yet again his eyes were down,
Trapped in between the words and pages.
And yet again I want to see those eyes.
Feel them as close as my skin.

I stood still,
Unable to move,
Unable to breathe.

If I could move,
Then I would have been on my knees,
Bruising, bleeding, red and purple,
I would stare in his eyes while kissing his knees.

There is a window beside,
He was leaning on it.
I leaned,
On the shelf beside.
My breath, laboured,
It was named for its plight.
'Classical romance poetry'
What a fancy name for misery!

It was a shelf filled with books no one likes to read.
They hide the flaws of perfection away from the reach.
I leaned against heavenly,
Stared at divinity.
And I know my thoughts may seem theatrical,
Extravagant, hyperbolized,
But have you seen my sire?

I was stunned, gone in daze,
I Smyster,
My back again the words of depressed writers,
The poem and poets may wake from death,
The pretty boy I like is oblivious to the effect he had.
On me, on the dead,
I lived to see his face,
And i know this face is the reason writers bleed for,
Painter mused on,
And the singer tunes the silence on.
And his face against the window of glass,
The slight shiver and nervousness cast,
I watch him look up and meet my eyes,
Our eyes met, possi was every impossible.
'Taehyung-ssi'
(I died that second, how can his voice be so good.)

♡
*

Everyone let's pretend Jungkook is studying something intellectual.

daze<3