I drown and I keep drowning.
It must've been forever.
Or so it seemed.
I try not to notice it, but his attention withers slowly and diverts away from me. He's looking for a new inspiration, I'm becoming desperate.
I'm walking, jogging and finally running. I look and I try. I try so hard to find a way to bring the attention back to me.
But beneath my feet, the forest is receding.
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...
