by enigmatic adolescents
I like it when you stare at me and then pretend you weren’t looking at me. I like how your eyes turn from brown to this shade of gold in the sun. I like how everytime we talk, you reveal another side of you.
You’re all shades of the colors of the rainbow, or even more. You’re the voice in my head, always there, soothing me, even when you’re not. You’re the ink in my pen, giving me a means of expression, expressing what you make me feel.
I like how when we first met, you didn’t talk much. Now look at you, can’t shut your mouth. I like the way you hold up my chin to make me look at you in the eyes, and then kiss me. I like that little tinge of red in your hair. I like the scars on your bare chest, they signify you from the rest.
I like you, every inch of you and who you are.
Why don’t people write letters anymore? They should. Letters have the ability to show someone what they look like through your eyes.
To me, you, my dear, are what happiness looks like.
I like being in love with you.
I really do.