I hate your eyes.
I hate how you have the stars in your eyes and - I know that's so cliché- but I swear you have nebulas inside you. And next to you my eyes are nothing but that's okay. That's not important, really. What's important is that you are a universe and I will never be able to reach you. But that's okay.
I hate your smile.
You are evil. You're an incarnation of the devil but oh god, you look so good. I mentioned your favourite band the other day. You heard. You had the audacity to smirk at me. You know, I turned around in science class once. You saw me and you smiled and something inside of me froze and I couldn't breathe and-
Don't you care?
I hate you.
I hate you when you drag your fingers across your hair. I hate you when you play the guitar and you won't let go and you won't let me catch my breath. Stop messing with my head and my everchanging unstable heart. I hate you, and I swear to do so until- until you appear in the morning again. You won't let me breathe again.
And this is crazy. You know why? We haven't even had a proper conversation. I've studied your eyes and you've memorised my favourite bands but we've never held a conversation for more than 2 minutes. Maybe I'll try to change that tommorow. But I know that I'll try but I'll stutter and stumble and I'll gawk too much to even compare to your flawless conversational skills and your contagious laughter. But you know what? I think that might just be okay.
YOU ARE READING
Timekeeper
Poetry"I'll take something from everyone and give a bit of me, until I'm nothing but an echo. Until I'm a puppet of my own will, strewn together of every corner of this world. Maybe love is not needing that. Maybe if it is, love doesn't really exist." ...
