i turn to my left and there's a boy,
taller & more muscular from what i see
underneath his hat and jacket.
his hair is lighter than yours,
his hands bigger,
and his eyes are what most would consider the same color as yours.
but they're not.
i turn away and wonder
if i'll ever find another pair
of brown eyes as beautiful
as the ones i see staring back at me
from across the silent room;
the ones that always seem to be
desperately trying to read my mind,
the ones that light up every time we touch.
those brown eyes,
damn.
they lie so well.
is that what made me believe you actually meant it when you said i love you?
fuck those brown eyes,
but damn,
they won't stop looking at me.
YOU ARE READING
ampersand
Poetrya collection of trash poetry from a girl who tries to treat people with kindness although many have been unkind to her
