(literally just wrote this. I'm in a crap mood and we all know crap moods = passages of my own love story reportorial I keep in my head. what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic. Warning: not my best work at all.)
The thick, matted hair and tempting eyes were the things that got me. She had me at hello.
Though I was no stranger to love, this felt different. She was a timid teen just turned fifteen years young. She was the temptress queen whom stole my heart the minute I walked into the room. My, that was a walk to remember. She sat with her back towards me, glancing and laughing theoretically at two of her companions. After she noticed the attention I received from her posse she swivelled and stared.
Our eyes met and locked.
After what seemed like an eternity, she stood and smiled. There was no need for an introduction; we knew each other, barely.
So that was our first moment. That stare gave birth to a course of events which shook my life at the foundations calling everyone to take cover. We were wild, passionate and hopeless.
I had shared a love before but none like this. I said it too early. It caused a ripple of uncertainty within herself. You've blown it jones.
As quickly as she said it, she snatched it back like stichomythia of the heart. I no longer held her heart, though she said she still felt the same I knew better. For to believe love can still exist without the word is mere ignorance.
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