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Description
He’s got eyelashes that are blonde right at the roots, even thought his hair is chocolate brown.

His eyelashes keep secrets from me.

He does too; he doesn’t want to tell me the truth anymore because he thinks he will break me.

He paid attention to the tape around the box I came in, he handles me with care. He thinks I’m fragile.

He is perfectly right, of course.

But i won't break now he knows, nevernevernever.

-

His hair smells different every time, it smells of heat, then shampoo, then air, then love. It falls in his eyes and he’s constantly shaking his head to try and stop it.

I asked if I could cut his hair. I wanted to keep a tiny bit of him and claim it as my own. But his ex girlfriend cut his hair and he hated it, he hated her.

She was one of those people who break hearts, slit wrists and shout obscenities in the darkness.

I think he hated me for a while too.

-

His eyes are full of the past, they fill with tears sometimes.
They’re painfully beautiful, like the feeling I get when he wraps his arms around my waist, whispers something into my ear and I turn and kiss his cheek.

I never worked out whether it was the past that made him cry, or the present.

Maybe he's scared of the future; maybe he knows things will never be the same.

-

His lips are thin and curved, not the kind of lips you’d want to kiss, they’re cruel lips, misplaced on such a lovely boy. However, I find myself wanting to kiss them, all the time.

Like a kitten put into a cage of lions.

Like a ribbon caught up in a dying tree.

Like my hand, without the company of his.

Even though they are cruel lips, lips that have told lies, they are kind too.

Buttery words flow out of them like the sea rushes onto the sand, making the sand feel wanted.

-

His skin is tanned, he’s allergic to sun cream, and it’s like the leather jacket I long for but a thousand times more beautiful. It’s warm too. It’s like sitting in front of a roaring fire somewhere and looking out of drenched window panes, and not seeing anything at all, it’s beautiful.

It’s honey soft.

-

His arms are weak, they can barely hold up his sorry head when he is sad and lonely.

But

His arms are strong, I know because he picked me up effortlessly, carried me to my front door, and said goodbye.

oh the goodbyes are always so long.

Description
He’s got eyelashes that are blonde right at the roots, even thought his hair is chocolate brown.

His eyelashes keep secrets from me.

He does too; he doesn’t want to tell me the truth anymore because he thinks he will break me.

He paid attention to the tape around the box I came in, he handles me with care. He thinks I’m fragile.

He is perfectly right, of course.

But i won't break now he knows, nevernevernever.

-

His hair smells different every time, it smells of heat, then shampoo, then air, then love. It falls in his eyes and he’s constantly shaking his head to try and stop it.

I asked if I could cut his hair. I wanted to keep a tiny bit of him and claim it as my own. But his ex girlfriend cut his hair and he hated it, he hated her.

She was one of those people who break hearts, slit wrists and shout obscenities in the darkness.

I think he hated me for a while too.

-

His eyes are full of the past, they fill with tears sometimes.
They’re painfully beautiful, like the feeling I get when he wraps his arms around my waist, whispers something into my ear and I turn and kiss his cheek.

I never worked out whether it was the past that made him cry, or the present.

Maybe he's scared of the future; maybe he knows things will never be the same.

-

His lips are thin and curved, not the kind of lips you’d want to kiss, they’re cruel lips, misplaced on such a lovely boy. However, I find myself wanting to kiss them, all the time.

Like a kitten put into a cage of lions.

Like a ribbon caught up in a dying tree.

Like my hand, without the company of his.

Even though they are cruel lips, lips that have told lies, they are kind too.

Buttery words flow out of them like the sea rushes onto the sand, making the sand feel wanted.

-

His skin is tanned, he’s allergic to sun cream, and it’s like the leather jacket I long for but a thousand times more beautiful. It’s warm too. It’s like sitting in front of a roaring fire somewhere and looking out of drenched window panes, and not seeing anything at all, it’s beautiful.

It’s honey soft.

-

His arms are weak, they can barely hold up his sorry head when he is sad and lonely.

But

His arms are strong, I know because he picked me up effortlessly, carried me to my front door, and said goodbye.

oh the goodbyes are always so long.