In front of me is a dashing young man. His raven black hair glints as it catches the rays of the sun, his long lashes that frame two dark orbs of black staring back at me.
"You're beautiful." He said.
My heart skipped a beat but I gave him a sad smile, shook my head and said:
"Stop saying things you don't mean, you don't have to say that to make me feel better."
YOU ARE READING
Semblance
Poetry"If only feelings could be written, then it'd be easy to erase them and suddenly feel nothing at all. You wouldn't feel pain, or sadness, or even happiness. ...
