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 Oct 2014 Calista Faye Nielsen
bc
I remember the first time I saw you.
You had this light gray shirt on and
your dark brown hair was styled to the side.
You wanna know a secret?
Gray looks exquisite on you.
You have these dark brown eyes and freckles that adorn your cheeks.
You know, I never even knew that I liked freckles until I met you.
I remember the first time I talked to you.
You're voice was the right kind of deep.
It wasn't too high or too deep. It was just perfect.
I remember the first time I hugged you.
Your long arms wrapped around my small figure,
and for those few seconds, everything felt complete.
I remember the first time you called me pretty.
For just a second, in that moment in time, I actually believed it.
idk kind of short and kind of suckish, I'll edit it later.
 Oct 2014 Calista Faye Nielsen
bc
You will always end up hurt.
I do not care how strong physically and mentally you are,
there will always be tears shed and hearts broken.
Because you cannot do something so physically intimate and
expect it to not be mentally intimate.
That is like jumping off a cliff and hoping you don't fall.
You cannot make pretend love.
You cannot look at someone and see them as an object.
For they are not an object, they are human
Someone will fall, and they will fall hard.
They will spend their time praying that each kiss is real.
They will pray that its more than just physical.
They will pray that rough touches and loud moans are more than lust.
They will spend their time hoping and praying
that you will see them as more than a quick distraction,
but, darling, this is not a fairytale.
They will not fall for you all because you kissed them differently.
They will not see you in a different light.
For this started as physical and it will stay physical.

*(b.c)
No I have never been in this situation, but I know people who have
 Oct 2014 Calista Faye Nielsen
bc
To the boy that sits next to me in English class.
I adore everything about you.
I adore the way you wish you were taller, even though I personally think you are the perfect height.
I adore your hands, how they are so large compared to mine.
You, my friend, are a true piece of art.
A beautiful creation of light skin, light brown hair, long eyelashes that adorn your beautiful blue eyes, and dark pink lips.
I would not mind sitting down and studying you for hours with my eyes and hands.
I would not mind experiencing the foreign feel of your skin underneath my fingertips.
I would not mind exploring every inch of your body.
I don't believe there is such a thing as perfection, but if somehow perfection did exist, you would be pretty **** close.
I want to discover what makes you smile.
I want to memorize your laugh and store it in my mind, so I can bring it out and listen to it on a bad day.
I want your hand prints to be imprinted on my body, the smell of your cologne on the shirt you like best on me.
I want to study you until I memorize the way that every hair falls, until I memorize your heart beat.
Give me the feeling of your arms wrapped around me.
This is my only desire.
You know, I hate you for making me think these thoughts and experience these emotions.
I hate you and I freaking adore you, but you will never adore me because of her.
And when I sit in my bed alone at night, wishing that I could experience the treasure that is you, you're sharing your laugh with her.
You're sharing your smile with her.
I bet she doesn't even admire the way that your laugh is so loud and melodic like I would.
I bet she doesn't appreciate the fact that you have grazed your fingertips upon her ever so gently.
I bet she doesn't admire your lips.
How they are this beautiful shade of dark pink.  
She probably doesn't cherish the moments that her head lays upon your chest as you embrace each other like I would.
She doesn't admire you like the beautiful work of art that you are.

*(b.c.)
Crushes ****.

— The End —