Eyed Well

1: poetic

It was only a week till I started my sophomore year in college.

And to be honest college was only bearable, since I had my best friend Mark with me in all classes.

Mark and I have been best friends since my second birthday, for over seventeen years of my life I have been friends with him.

A face like his, is matched with words that say.

Lips full like a moon at the end of its cycle, eyes as green as forest leaves in spring, nose button like charm, his hair a honey brown, his heart shaming the light the sun gives is able to give.

He's tall, probably like 6 foot something, I don't know.

But what I did know is that he was the most funny person I will ever find.
I actually feel like I have a full grown six pack when I'm with him, cause that motherfucker makes me laugh like hell.

I place on a nude colored lipstick on my lips, smacking them and making a pop sound to create the final product for my lips.

As I place the lipstick on the table, I get a phone call, It was mark.

I look at the time, it's 6:30, I am supposed to meet him at the park at 6:00, he's gonna fuck me up.

I put my hand on the phone and pray that I survive for what will happen to me. I slide the green button and place the phone to my ears.

"Hello." I say lightly biting my lips and hoping he doesn't attack me with yelling. "umm so where are you?" He asks, my heartbeat lowers as there is no yelling. "I'm on the way." On the way to my closet.

A few moments of silence and I hear him smack his lips. "where are you?" He shuts up again. "would it be considered I'm on my way if I wasn't on my way." As he says that I let out a bark of laughter. "I was on my way to my closet." He laughs there with me at my remark.

We stop taking a breath. "ok let's just meet each other up at around like seven, seven thirty." I stand up from my chair and head over to my closet setting the phone down on the desk and pressing the speaker button.

"yeah sure." He says then hangs up the phone, I roll my eyes knowing that he won't be coming at 7:30, and he might be coming at 8. That man cares about fashion more than any women I know or will ever know.

I reach out for the handles on the closet and open it, a color of dresses, pants, shirts, skirts hide in there being stuck up with hangers.

My pastel acrylic nails touch the fabric of the dresses as I roll thru them trying to pick out which outfit I want to wear for the day.

As my hands keep moving forward thru the dresses my nails presses on one of the fabric and it seemed to match just perfectly.

I pick it out, a dress of silk, mixed with light blue the back scandalous and shown to the eye with a few straps holding it together, the dress ends at the mid thigh, small ribbons attached to the side of the hips in a line, bows drawn in the fabric barley seen by an eye.

I throw away the hanger, landing it on the bed, I remove the straps of my sleeping shirt and toss it to the side, grabbing a bra from my drawer and sticking it on my tits, making them uncomfortable but at least a little bit more stuck in place.

I remove my baggy pajama pants too and throw them right on top of the shirt, I put on a thong then take some lotion scented like vanilla.

I place on the dress and secure it by making the straps sit on my shoulders.

I find myself white thick heels pearls dripping from the heel to the main part of it, one of the pearls holds onto a heart shaped pearl, and one attached from the top of the heel to the toes has a gem in the middle.