All these feelings that will never be reciprocated

A bus ride

You find yourself playing with her fingers again. Something about that smooth yet rough hand feels you with more love than ever. She is such a contradiction, and you know that. She is sat next to you, staring out of the bus as you both sit in peaceful silence. Never have you felt awkward in her presence, and you sincerely hope you never will. Hearing the bus rumble on, you intertwine your fingers with hers, marveling at how perfect your hand fits in hers. Just like how perfectly she fits with you. People do not understand the connection you have with the angel, but you have never expected them to understand for they are mortals, mortals who have their own set of worries and knowledge. Slowly, she leans towards you, resting her head on your shoulder. You hear her sigh, a tiny sigh of contentment. Resting your head on hers, you close your eyes and wish that the moment would never end. Playing with her fingers is one of your favourite pastimes now.




Fear thrives on doubt. Doubt thrives on grief. Grief thrives on anxiety.

I fear to love. Thus I doubt love? I do not doubt love. I fear the rejection that may come with love, so I doubt a happy ending.

You have brought me courage to love, and I hope it is enough to drive the monsters away

Flawlessly Perfect

I step into the room, sweeping my eyes past everyone until I find my target. You sit there ever so gracefully with your iPhone, head bobbing to the music while you study. Even in this ungodly hour you manage to look so perfect. Your wavy coffee-coloured hair is carelessly swept back into a messy ponytail, some of the untied hair flopping down to frame your oblong face and perfectly angular cheekbones.  Your “geek” glasses perched on your up-turned nose. I’ve always had a soft spot for anybody who wore glasses. But you took beauty to another level with them. With every blink, your long lashes almost brushes the glasses, and your grey-blue eyes show that you are tired. If anybody ever compared your beauty to anyone else, it would be useless, as you are the ever so perfect rose to their pathetic, overgrown weeds. (Or at least this is how gorgeous you are to me) Your sun-kissed skin is flawlessly smooth, and I would give anything and everything to be able to touch you. I watch you stand, your tall, lithe body seemingly has perfected the art of “swag”. I catch your eye and smirk, as you blush, looking away. Maybe someday you will be mine. But for now I will be content with being your newly found friend. Time is limited, but I can hope for more time with you.

I’m selfish

“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”

– Marilyn Monroe

My Heart is yours

“My heart is, and always will be, yours.”

-Sense and Sensibility