LAYING AROUND BOXES

STAR STRUCK

I wasn't expecting myself to be so hung up on a stranger. No words were exchanged, not even a spare glance but a blurred image of him remains in my head. He was beyond beautiful. His face now clouded but I still remember his cute little septum piercings. I believe his hair was a greenish blonde, the style of it common but hard for me to describe. His shirt a short button down, color now unknown, but his shorts were the color of a reddish mud... burgundy even,around 6 inches above the knee and cuffed at the end. Retro old school vans, long socks. As of now he still seems like a random kid in Manhattan but no. He is beautiful and I say that because of his scars. They danced around his thighs filling the space of his warm ivory skin with little pink marks. Hundreds of them healed and smooth, out and open with a story to tell. I may not know what story lies with his beauty but it was tender and raw. The way he carried himself was bold ... beautiful. I'll  never forget him... I cant