YELLOW WINTER

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2.
The thing about having a body like mine's that u look like a model right untill you stand up.
It's like people expect much untill I take off my nose mask or get up to walk then they see it... my boyish chest, child like legs, skinny hands, bony fingers, skin almost rusty looking and a height any boy's shirt could make a gown out of.
I'm not built like a model, I just haven't developed.
Maybe it's all that cigarette?
I shouldn't have taken them but sitting on the roof top with no serious titled book to read to look poetic or headsets to listen to songs that sound nothing like the mood I wear on my face.
You see I'm good at pretending, or atleast I think I am.
No one's noticed I like to talk allot, people just assume I'm quiet. no one's noticed me taking pictures of them and then deleting it.
The football kid didn't know I showed up late at his practices to take pictures of him all sweaty and focused with the setting sun illuminating his olive skin which look almost golden, his sharp smile and oiled black hair.
The art kid didn't know I've captured every single stroke of paint on the different canvas he likes to experiment with, the 1000 different faces he wears all with deepen focus as his veiny hands create a world on paper, on canvas I wished was ours alone.
Oh to be drawn into existence by those fingers...then maybe I wouldn't look like this? I would allow him paint me into his perfect muse...but no one knows... I can just be mad and no one pays attention.
No one asks why I always have eye bags, or why I never wear short sleeves and that's best cause I'm even better at lying.
With cigarettes I can look philosophic  and melancholic seating up on that old damp roof top all the while simply just counting the cars that pass by or pretending to ... Cause truth is I'm watching the window I've only recently come to realize belongs to him.

He has a habit of sitting there all night with one of those cheesy books in his hand and oh, his curtains are yellow!
They're cute. Like cute cute.
By 10pm he takes a bunch of pills I don't really know.
They ain't those hard drugs though ...The one's that make you immortal or a demon... the ones that make you a shiitier version of urself.. ur ticket away from the real world....I would know ...
They're a bunch lying around the old brown couches down below beside them most likely would be a long metallic cane and Marie on the couch, one hand on her bad kneel with eyes tightly shut.
Today I arrived school late, yet again.
The teacher didn't say a word, no one does. It's good being invincible while yet seeing everyone, everything, every tiny detail.
It's funny how I know everyone yet no one knows me. The curse of invincibility, great!
When I walked in for a moment I thought I caught his eyes starring at me...but I... I am not fit for him to hold his gaze upon.
People see him.
He walks in and his attractive friend smiles at him. The girls says hi from time to time.
The basketball kids smile at him while asking when he'll try out for the team but he never answers, I know why though.
I lied about deleting his pictures..
Why would I?
Those lashes?
The way his eyes narrow when he's irritated or the look of fear in his eyes when he defeatedly walks out from his house at 6pm.
The way his chest looks when he's all sweaty after running on weekends...how can I miss that?
The day he wears the colour yellow I might just take a picture that isn't black and white. Carry it in my little wallet like he's an old lover who's gone to war and I, his girl can't go a day without looking at his face while wishing him back from the war.
I am delusional ain't I?
I know.
But every 16 year old is, right?
I know he and I would never be a thing. I know for a fact that I'll live out the rest of my life paying for sins I didn't commit.
I didn't want this face ...no one would....this body....I didn't want that agonized little thing on the sofa to push me out and blame me for everything wrong in her life.
I didn't want to be hit with that cane that barely helps her walk .... I didn't want to see! To hear! To feel!
But for him I do ....for him this moments are bearable.
His eyes remind me of innocence I've lost at the same time they show me what I can never be, what I can never have. Courage.
Courage to vent. Courage to run...to be angry, to cry.
That's why I like this fleeting feeling. Like always it might not last and we would never be a "me and u" but atleast he's real. He isn't perfect.
He's broken like me.
He's real like me.. he's real normal in a personified way that makes me less abnormal. He's mine...in my mind.