"How do I look?" He asked with the brightest smile I've ever seen.
He was wearing my jacket.
All I could do was laugh. His eyes glistened before a frown was painted over his lips as I covered my own. He hated not being able to see my smile.
The strings were pulled tight and the zipper seemed to be suffocating him. I could hear the struggle in each stifling breath he took, but he kept the piece of clothing on until I answered his question.
I never did. I was too wary of myself around him, but I knew he could read my thoughts just by looking at me.
It wasn't long before I was standing in this room alone. He had to leave, gently placing the jacket upon my bag. I could see the disappointment in the sole action of his arms. I felt sluggish at the fact he couldn't get anything out of me. I wanted to know him more. I wanted to show him everything I kept hidden. I wanted him to know he was different than the rest.
"How do I look?" His words lingered as I stepped out of the door frame.
"Beautiful," I whispered as I turned out the lights.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Not Sad Anymore
PoesíaThis book of poetry describes the causes of a heartbreak one sentence at a time, the story leading up to it, with no intention of description. No need for the whole story. No need to point fingers, nor to point blame. Just words, that will possibly...
