twelve freckles.
that's what i've counted countless times before, twelve. i counted again today, and it's still twelve.
wide glasses sit on top of her cheeks, and between her teeth is a tiny space that holds my whole universe.
her skin is a warm coffee color, the color of the coffee with three creamers i take with me on my commute every morning when i see her.
she has acorn-colored waves that are bleached to a light blonde at the ends that stopped just above her shoulders.
she's tall too.
not as tall as me-- a giant above her-- but taller than most of the other girls.
she takes the subway every day, but she doesn't seem like she is dressed for work. she always looks like she isn't going somewhere specific, but is going anywhere her day takes her. i'm going to work. donned in some kind of button up and dark colored slacks.
she alternates between sitting and standing, but she always stands or sits in the same place: right across from me. she's there when i get on and when i get off. it's like she lives there or could sense when i am boarding.
whenever we make eye contact, she smiles, and i swear the sun takes a break to let her radiate. she is an alluring mystery and an enticing adventure waiting for me a few feet away everyday at 5 am and 3 pm.
i want to know her so desperately; she's always on my mind. what is her favorite color? does she like the beach? does she lick the cheese dust off of her fingers after she eats cheetos? she is slowly taking over my thoughts, but i have to keep her out.
she is the poisoned apple of my eye; if i ever reached out to her, my heart-- the wild bird i try so hard to keep locked away within its cage-- would be bound to her. it is a cycle that i fall into all too often.
i would see, i would fall, then i would crash and burn, and the worst part is that after it's all over, i am the only one left to pick up the pieces of me that shattered.
she is my 2 am muse and the song stuck in my head. she is a loveliness metastasizing to my soul. i breathe her image, get drunk on her smile, and get high on her presence.
she is dangerous to me, and she doesn't even know it. she is a c-4 bomb with blue eyes and ripped jeans, but the way she looks at me for just a few seconds makes me forget the fire beneath me waiting to swallow me whole. does she know how the look in her eyes drives me crazy? does she know that she drives me crazy? does she know how much power she holds over me? i either think love or think death of her, but either way, it's always her.
while she sits across from me on that subway, does she ever think about how her smile is a single bullet straight through my heart? she is a siren and i, a naïve ship boy. does she know what black magic she puts over me?
she doesn't, which is the most sad part of all. that to her, i am the guy on the train, but to me she is a goddess. i'll never cross her mind, but she has made a permanent home in my brain. she decorates the walls with her image.
we only communicate through a few brief blinks, a simple smile, and the occasional wave. she doesn't even know my name nor do i know hers.
i am a passing cloud to her, but she is my whole damn sky.
♥
a/n: what did i write?
