Mysteries That Draw Me In.
I can't draw people. Well, I can't draw alot of things but, I really can't draw people. More specifically, I can't draw you.
In my dreams, I vaguely recall those brows of yours, always locked in some kind of frown. You'd frown when you were unhappy, angry, hungry, sleepy and you'd also frown when you were happy because you had/have a queer habit of acting like you weren't happy anyway. With my eyes closed, my fingers remember the bony jawline that blended into your skinny shoulder frame- weighed down by the burden of a mild slouch. Perhaps you were tired. Someone with a history like yours must find it quite exhausting to live each day remembering things you can't bear to forget yet wish you could/don't want to hold on to at the same time. As I trace my fingers across your face, they somehow find your eyes. Immediately, your vacant/sometimes just intent (but undeniably intriguing) stares flash through my mind. There was something about those eyes that made me feel uncomfortable with/around you- I never have the courage to initiate a conversation with you. Even if I saw you along the corridors or just spacing out alone at the benches, I'd never walk over to say hi because... well I don't know exactly why now that I'm trying to put it into words. Maybe it's just me, but your eyes look like they hold bittersweet stories you could tell when you reach a hundred someday. Do they? Because my fingers were greedy, or maybe because my heart was curious for more, they brush past your cheeks as I will them to take their leave. You were always too skinny despite being rather good looking. Your features were decent, sharp(ish); but you were/are too skinny.
All that. Yet when I wake up, everything just fades into an epic blur of grey and once again I haven't the slightest inkling of who you might be. So tell me then, how could I ever draw someone like you?
Perhaps this is when I chime: Oh how strange, indeed.
P.S: This is entirely random.
In my dreams, I vaguely recall those brows of yours, always locked in some kind of frown. You'd frown when you were unhappy, angry, hungry, sleepy and you'd also frown when you were happy because you had/have a queer habit of acting like you weren't happy anyway. With my eyes closed, my fingers remember the bony jawline that blended into your skinny shoulder frame- weighed down by the burden of a mild slouch. Perhaps you were tired. Someone with a history like yours must find it quite exhausting to live each day remembering things you can't bear to forget yet wish you could/don't want to hold on to at the same time. As I trace my fingers across your face, they somehow find your eyes. Immediately, your vacant/sometimes just intent (but undeniably intriguing) stares flash through my mind. There was something about those eyes that made me feel uncomfortable with/around you- I never have the courage to initiate a conversation with you. Even if I saw you along the corridors or just spacing out alone at the benches, I'd never walk over to say hi because... well I don't know exactly why now that I'm trying to put it into words. Maybe it's just me, but your eyes look like they hold bittersweet stories you could tell when you reach a hundred someday. Do they? Because my fingers were greedy, or maybe because my heart was curious for more, they brush past your cheeks as I will them to take their leave. You were always too skinny despite being rather good looking. Your features were decent, sharp(ish); but you were/are too skinny.
All that. Yet when I wake up, everything just fades into an epic blur of grey and once again I haven't the slightest inkling of who you might be. So tell me then, how could I ever draw someone like you?
Perhaps this is when I chime: Oh how strange, indeed.
P.S: This is entirely random.