The lights were dim, casting a faint shadow over your rounded lips.
You placed your hand on the table, and with the gentlest of eyes you peered into the very depths of my being. My fingers intertwined with yours, and my cheeks tugged at the edges of my lips as I tried to fight back a overly idiotic smile. I lifted my eyes and looked right back into yours, as though they were but a window into the things of your past, but I merely closed the curtains. For all that mattered in that moment was the heat I felt sinking into my skin from your hand holding mine. All that mattered was the way your eyes glistened in the faded lights, and the way your lips seemed to be taunting me to kiss them. I don't know the definition of perfect, and I know nothing in life is. But I do know that happiness is very real, and I was so genuinely, and confidently, happy. You then drove me home, oh how I wished the miles could of drug on forever. Stealing glances of your picture perfect portrait as you had your eyes on the road. But my favorite was attempting to steal a glance only to find you already looking at me. It wasn't love, no, not yet. But it was the kind of happiness you search a lifetime for, and when you find it, your life kind of just feels, complete. I wanted to kiss you, but I'm glad I didn't. As I watched you casually walk back to your truck, I held my breath to keep myself from calling out your name. You see, just because in your book, everything is going smoothly like a fairy tale. You're not the author of the other persons novel, and to you, my handsome prince. To you I was merely apart of your introduction. See you hadn't even wrote your first chapter yet, and I had thought we were writing the last one of our pages, together. But you, you wanted to be;
on your own.
This is about a guy I met and thought we were going to have something amazing. But turns out he just wanted to be on his own, and have fun along the way.