Part 7
My heart skips a beat instantly when I meet her eyes. Blue--simple, yet enchanting.
Freckles line her nose, her blonde hair frames her beautiful face delicately and her smile creases her soft lips.
I smile and open my arms for her embrace. She's wearing the jersey she had on the last time I saw her, #8.
I can feel myself go red, I smile uncontrollably at the thought.
She smirks, satisfied that she has that effect on me--but I can see her blushing as well--no matter her "top energy".
She lets go, but decides to hold my hand as I look back down the line at all the people...
A. B,
R. P,
B. C,
R. E,
A. A,
H. F,
K. R,
K. G,
M. S,
H. B,
and
E.
The room is silent, but their heartbeats echo through the space.
To think that for a moment in time, each one of these people meant something to me, had a romantic impact on my life.
They've shaped me into who I am, regardless if I still like them or not. If I love them, or don't. If they taught me anything, or nothing at all.
I thank them all...
Then I wake up.
[em]
YOU ARE READING
Blind Poets
PoetryPoetry for those who find both comfort and discomfort in the dark. - Em Instagram: @em.g_4 WARNING This book includes references to sensitive topics such as suicide, depression, struggles with mental health and so on.
