-
Prickle my skin with the dots of water.
Clouds,
nothing but a simple forecast
above my head
or so it seems
before it takes me on a spin
I ride upon the white crested sea,
only a fragment of my imagination
Spirals of azure strings
press against the iron table
or was it the wood which fell?
-
My heart,
mismatched puzzle
broken and replaced
pound, pound, pound
My pulse,
faint and frail
only scribbles on the screen
pound, pound, pound
My breath,
harsh and rough
only a show
pound, pound, pound
My hands,
frozen and calloused
urging for warmth
pound, pound, pound
Though it’s cold
and you are gone
My mind,
my soul,
might as well too.
-
His hair were like the puffy, soft clouds that shook above me, showering me with sunshine instead of the weather man’s forecast of heavy rain. He was across from me, my heart bumped to see him. I didn’t let him know that I was franticly trying to make sure my heart rate went down. His eyes were like the ocean, deep blue with hints of green. His face was clear of acne, his mouth grinning with affection. My mind was never empty, for it was constantly full of him.
I’ve been telling about my day, how it was always terrible for me. I fished out his affection for me and his caring attitude was what kept me going though the day. He listened to me, his eyes always staring into mine, driving me into this trance. He comforted me often, resting his hand on my hand. Sometimes I moved farther apart, hoping that his arms would swoop me and hug me. But he didn’t, my hopes falling down a little.
He was tired, his lips was dry and parched. He bit his lip, ripping some of the chapped skin off of his lips. I too, was tired that day, my brain clouded with thoughts of homework and trouble. My hair was messy and I pulled away from him, trying to not let him see my face in distress. I gave in after sometime to his cheerful smile even though his face showed little sleep and drowsiness.
I poked him often to get his attention from his friends. He was crowded around his friends sometimes, and I felt in the need of a warm smile across my face. I knew it kind of irritated him when I poked him in the sides. He poked me back, but lighter. I slapped him because of some unknown reason. I didn’t know what I was doing, and my heart ached when I smacked my palm across his smooth skin. He didn’t say much but an “Ow.” I really wanted to hug him and nuzzle my head onto his shoulder and apologized, but all I could say was sorry.I wrapped my arm around him, dragging him away from where his classes were. I knew it would make him late, so I let go soon enough. I wondered if he minded walking me to my classes, even if I was the reason to make him run to his period.
During break, I walked to him, my eyes were watery and almost to brink of tears, fake tears. I pouted my mouth and said to him, “I lost the game,” but I really wanted to confess my affection towards him. I really did. I felt bad to making him lose the game, so I secretly muttered to myself, “I like you.” Somehow it seemed like he might have heard what I had said. He questioned me, “What did you say?” but I avoided the question and walked away to my friends.
I seriously need to get this off my mind. I wanted to confess, but he might have a crush on a girl. He was looking at this girl who sat next to me in class. I wanted his eyes to fall on me. I hope that he somehow doesn’t find out, so I won’t ruin his crush. -
Her hair was like strands of fine silk, brown and lavish which shone and glimmered in the sun’s rays. She was right in front of me, my eyes couldn’t stop staring at her seductive eyes which seemed to embrace my soul and warmed me from within. She has always been a lovely figure, her smiles were like the first tweets and chirps of the spring, almost happy as always. Her lips were curved, smooth and soft. She bit down on her lip sometimes, anxiety had made her do so unknowingly.
She told me about how she did in class, which we always did when we were bored out of our minds. She usually pouted to me about how the teacher picked on her, and how all the bad things usually happen to her. I comfort her, placing my hands on her head and kept it there to make her feel secure. I felt terrible when she moved away from me, but I resisted from hugging her to comfort her more.
When she was tried, her voice cracked a little, her hair messy. She pushed me away whenever she was like that, but as usual she gave up shielding her face and chuckled at my cheesy jokes. I wonder what she had felt when she hugged me. Did she have the same feeling?
She likes poking me in the sides, laughing cruelly at my pain. I press my fingers against her side slightly but was returned by a mild slap to the face. It hurt me when she did slap me, my mind held back from exchanging thoughts of fights. I just uttered a single “Ow.”
Sometimes she wrapped her arms around my arm, dragging me forward to her classes. I walked her to her classes to make sure she was not going to kill me afterwards. I think she was being friendly, since she has always done so with her guy friends.
She whimpered to me one time, her eyes close to watering. She pouted her mouth, making her infamous puppy dog eyes. She said slowly, “I lost the game,” and began to grin at me. I shook my head in madness, thinking how I had lost the game. It was a good tactic.
I really want to tell her I liked her, my trains of thoughts encircled with her. Maybe, I thought, it might just happen. -
I warn myself constantly that anger will get the best of me. It always has been, and its never been always controlled. It’s kept under pressure, tightly locked away in a titanium capsule. Sometimes it gets released, burning with an explosion. Eh, I guess it just builds up after a while.
