Although we speak rarely now.
Although we see each other maybe once a year
I still feel like I'm trapped. When I look into your eyes.
Those hellish, dark drown eyes.
His eyes, Dark against his tan skin, Wrap up so well with his smile.
That devilish smile.
And his dark locks wavy and thick,used to frame your slender face all too well.
That messy, gorgeous hair.
You look like Edward Scissor-hands.
Although, you aren't as fictional.
Well. Maybe you are.
I've lost you. in the haze of her smile, and the bits of ******* you inhale.