The girl who printed my heart out on paper, you have my heart.


Your eyes kept scouring for me, yet I remained deliberate aloof : I was tugging on your strings just as hard as your eyes bore holes in my back.


But hey, the black noise covering us was all we needed to look at each other.


That was the closest I've ever come feeling like me : feeling like the boy who once cherished moments like that.


And oh boy, she wants me dead.

Asked if we could become friends, but after the flurry that happened in front of her eyes, answer was no.

No.
No.


Chuckle


It's all a game to me.
Even though she slips away from my fingers, I live for the moment.