She didn't want someone commonplace
She wanted an artist, a poet,
A singer, a dancer... just someone
More intriguing than her
Wandering, she met him one day  
He, with a big mouth and the skill
To write like every ******* thing sings
A language that shakes her, startles her
Yet touches her soul at the same time
The way he talked instilled a warmth
She felt illuminated with true meaning
With beauty, with voices of creativity
So she followed his every syllable
Punctuated his pieces with love
Linked his figure of speeches
Swayed by his tide of words
She slid down the hill of literature
Of tales with happy endings
When one day, she wasn't his story
When she wasn't good enough
When he moved on to look for someone
More intriguing than her

I had a thought
A deep little thought
Some intruiging thought
The most beautiful thought

but then I forgot...

As I pulled back the layers of mulberry
I watched the world around me slowly disappear.
I fell into a thin sheen that disolved as I reached out my hands
It was silent
Somehow eerily peaceful
Magically mysterious, intimidatingly intruiging
As I walk upon its Arabian sands I see a figure
dressed in silk and gold
the coins around her waist; rattling, scattling, chattering, scattering
she walks up to me with a swing in her rhythmic step
Her glimmering hands brush back the hair covering my face
as she brushes it behind my ear she smiles
she pulls the thick blanket of midnight over my weary eyes
And I fall out of it once again

I adore her.

I don't know why I look at her the way that I do.
I've memorized her features.
I'm just drawn to stare at her, in wonder.

I look at her the way I look at the moon on a clear night in the countryside: in awe.

I wonder what it would be like to be inside her head. The thoughts that pass. The thoughts that she clings to. They must be so beautiful. So intruiging. And most importantly: different.

I struggle to put a name to what sets her apart from everyone else. Why do I feel like this about her and not those who actually notice my existence. I haven't found my answer yet.

I'm in awe at her beauty, stunned by the way she holds herself.
Not too confident, but definitely not shy.
Always unique and subtly charming.
And that **** smile. It kills me everytime.

She's a mix between Cole Sprouse and some femme fatale-character that I made up in my head.

I crave conversation. I long for days of talking about anything, discussing everything and nothing. I want comfortable silence. I want silence with similtanious conversation through looks and body language. I want to stare into those eyes without being afraid.

But I don't think that I will ever take the risk of telling her how I feel. Maybe one day, but not when I have everything to lose...even if everything is just the ocassional smile or laugh that I might get from joking around with her.

The only reason we're ever around each other in the first place is because we share first and fourth period. It's actually really sad, we're acquaintances...maybe friends. Nothing more.