Maybe I could write about how cute you look when the corners of your lips rise into that bright little grin of yours. Maybe I could write about the way those same lips spread a part, letting the world's most adorable laugh escape it's void. Then, Maybe I could write about your gorgeous innocent eyes, and how it feels when they look into mine, or the way that you brush that small strand of black hair out of your face, permitting me a larger preview of all your glory. There's about as much room for you in my writing as there is in my heart. From the warmth your arms provide, to the smooth surface of your lips, something in my gut tells me that I'd be writing about love. My guts never been wrong, not once in my life. In fact, it sure as hell proved itself when I watched that same love drain from your veins and slip right under the cracks of my doorway. I think the best part of it all is that it didn't even travel far. Only around the corner, did the love move, into the arms of the neighboring female who I considered my best friend.
