Sometimes I think things... |
And sometimes I don't. |
The minute I see your face tomorrow will likely be no different from the minute I see your face any other morning. The difference lies in an insignificant number that is meant to represent the passing of time. Nothing changes each time I look upon your eyes, your nose, your perfect lips. Each glance is as disarming as the one before. Each glance is full of perfection and agony. Each glance shows me something I cannot have. Each glance reminds me that you will never again be mine. Each glance makes me wonder if you ever were mine. A thousand questions play behind my eyes when I look into yours, a thousand questions you’re far too jaded to recognize.
