Poetry ☹ Lukeyslaugh

H i m

His voice is deep, soft and full of youth. He gives the best hugs- even when he doesn't want to. When he's sweaty his hair falls in front of his face. His eyes are like a map of a foreign world and easy to get lost in. The way they stared into mine sent chills down my spine and the way they secretly flickered to my lips made butterflies appear in my stomach. His touch was gentle but powerful. When he would shower before school his hair would be left slightly damp and his scent could be smelt from a mile off. His laid-back attitude to education intrigued me and his attempts of jokes interested me. When we were walking side by side his hand would ever so slightly brush against mine making electricity burn through my veins. The feeling of his arms wrapped around my waist gave me a warm sense of home. The feeling of his fingertips burned through my skin and lingered for weeks. And although he was never mine, no one can ever compare to how he made me feel. And I should be sad because I'm not in his arms, but I'm happy because he's out there- eating, breathing, living.