Slits.
Slits of the feelings I had in the past begin to float, making me realize that they're never gone.
Slits of the chances that I had to turn this relationship into something anew.
Slits.
Slits of the eyes of the boy, now turning into a man.
Eyes that seem too small, too squinty, too gentle to hold thousands of emotions, aspirations and dreams.
— the eyes of a brother whom my heart secretly belongs to.
YOU ARE READING
Platonic Turned Romantic
Teen FictionTwo families. Two infants. Two toddlers. Two children. Two adolescents. Two worlds diverge. Two individuals too platonic. Two individuals turned romantic.
