He's thin
He's the kind of boy who forever looks sick
He's got angles
There's nowhere to touch without drawing blood
Jawline cheekbones collarbone
He walks slow and easy
Like he's got all the time in the world
He walks hunched, like he's accepted some fate
He's smart when he wants to be
Kind when no one's paying attention
He's got a knack for drawing
For listening
He looks you in the face when he's got something to say
Everything about him is so familiar
And there's an ache in my chest
Because I had a whole year to fall in love him
And now I've only got 15 days left
YOU ARE READING
We Can Still Dance
PoetryIn this world, there are painters and writers, teachers and philosophers. Theorists and dancers. People. Complex, enigmatic, people like you and me. People with stories. This book is a collection of poems, based on events experienced by anyone an...
