I torture myself, however, by stealing glances of the other side where the grass seems to be getting gradually greener.
I see his grin, just barely.
I hear his laughter, just barely.
I feel his colours, just barely.
Just barely.
YOU ARE READING
HIM
Poetry[Highest: #994 in poetry lol] He's exotic and eccentric. The way he speaks, the way he moves: so gracefully but also so carelessly. As is the way his spirit is childish and interesting but aged and mundane. He's a mystery I'm starting to get hooked...
