-this prose is dedicated to when we first met
As his eyes pierced into my soul, I could feel every heartbeat that was meant for him, every tear, every feeling of joy.
The crowd abruptly vanished, and the only thing mattering, in that split second, was us. Him and I. Him, standing in the far corner of the room, by himself, a foreign longing in his eyes, and me; staring so that he'd listen to my gaze, listen to the words I would never say out loud.
The entire world could burn, and I'd still be looking into those eyes.
YOU ARE READING
letters to myself
PoetryThese aren't poems, these aren't meant to be artistic in any way. They are a bunch of scrappy compilations of words that inadvertently bursted into my head, and they were starting to overwhelm me, so I wrote most of them down.
