When the light hits him at 7:25 he turns a gold warm color. The admiration for the teen boy is filled with soft eye contact and small smiles. The thought of wanting to lean my head on his shoulder and drift off as well is more than enough to make my cheeks pink.
When realization hits at 7:26 he turns into ash, cold, and no longer a describable color. The sadness of the thought that it wouldn't happen gave the situation tension. Filled with rarely any eye contact and small frowns.
Between those minutes was the unknown feeling of what could have been, but that's all it will ever be. An illusion that never escaped into reality.
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Written in the Paper
PoetryA series of feelings and unspoken thoughts. All poems/paragraphs written by me, myself, and I. A chaos of feelings I can only express through words. Enjoy. #438 In Poetry [8/20/16] #260 In Poetry [8/22/16] #102 In Poetry [9/0...
