watercolor thoughts [completed]

xxxxviii | h i m (i)

him (i)

what i like about him: 

i like the crease between his eyebrows, that tiny fold of tanned skin that seems etched on there but it makes me like him more he works his butt off, you can tell why is it that little crease just placed so carelessly there by the work of God that it makes him all the more endearing and captivating  sometimes i just want to put my fingers into his hair and push it back for him but that little bit of hair always drops back into his face i wonder how he plays sports with his hair like that does he wear a hat or something 

i like how we both share a crease between our eyebrows

i love how intense his eyes are, how it flashes with intensity and determination and conviction, how focused he is to get things done he is a perfectionist and that's what makes him more beautiful, how he is determined to get what he wants to do done and he wants to do it right that's the most important part in everything you do, if you want to do something you have to do it right everything must be perfect and neat but this is why we don't collide, i'm a hurricane and an artistic outrageous mess and to me chaos is what keeps my brain balanced i like stamping the library textbooks in a frenzy and i enjoy how the ink hangs of the sides precariously like my life constantly but i watch him forcefully but carefully puts things into place this is what i mean this is never meant to be 

his eyes are a beautiful color but for some reason i don't know what color it is perhaps it's a hazel color that seems to have depth into it like a lake but you can't see the bottom why is it that i always fall for hazel-eye colored boys is it a curse for me to always strive to reach the attainable

i think his eyes are a work of art because you can get as close as you want but you'll never know what it truly is 

 i like how symmetric and aligned his face is i love how God must have reached out from the heavens and aligned his features perfectly, along with the way how his hair seems to always reach out for me but one day it will be another girl's hands to touch 

that's what i dislike 

i like how he speaks his language and i like how obviously he wears his culture in his name i like how unafraid he is to embrace his heritage and i like the way his name rolls of my tongue but it seems to me that i will never get it right i like how he holds his phone in his hands carelessly but careful and i like how effortlessly he slides his earphones in and listens to twenty-one pilot songs that he never plays out loud for all to hear because he loves to dwell in the world of music alone

i love how he doesn't buy any music on his phone because it costs money he isn't willing to use so he plays youtube playlists on a channel called suicide sheep i like how i use suicide sheep too to play my favorite songs

i love how he's human, how after too many textbooks stamped and scanned that he seems to look a little less like a demigod or apollo and more like a limp, ordinary boy i love how he blows his breath between his lips as he reaches for another textbook and sighs and i love how when i offer to take his stack that he shakes his head and works on even though i know he must be busy with all the other things he needs to do

i love how mature he is compared to all the other boys in our school i love how he is serious and wants to endeavor to get the job done i love how he puts his mind to it and i love that when he does, the fierce look on his face gets a little darker like the crease between his eyebrows i love how my subconscious picked up on all of this i love how after the job is done he will start to relax and the storm will fade from his face and the tension leaves his muscles and body i realize how i'm trying to stick with the word like but i revert to love so what does that even mean i am writing this with a line of consciousness, which means that you write out whatever you are thinking and i love how when he thinks he seems to drift out somewhere but keeps his feet anchored to the present i love how he is work then play i love how able and competent he is i love how he's a person you can depend on but i hate that i'll never have the chance to depend on him and truly know him he is an ancient violin people keep behind glass boxes and only a select few can reach inside and play it and he harbors an ancient melody inside him that i wish i knew of but i will never see i can only skim the surface and this is as far as his walls will let me in