Unknown pasts all collecting in one silent room.
Observers on the outside looking in.
He, a quiet and lonesome boy, only befriending his headphones, besides the loud, obnoxious, outspoken ball of manlike estrogen filling our heads with ignorance.
Bunches of hair can shade my ears from the questions of the clueless.
Unaware of any ounce of confusion lingering in my eyes, just hoping to pounce on a snarky remark of a neighboring mystery.
I never thought it would have ended like this.
My ability to be so comfortable in a room of strange acquaintances, but not so much strangers.
Unexpectedly, I am content with pondering the underneath of his exterior, the inner lining of his flesh that would consequently complete my quest for an answer to my absence of heart.
I'm not surprised that I still remain more curious in the overlooked hypnotic curls than the comb over.