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This diary entry is written by ‹✖[[AntisocialButterfly]]✖›. ( View all entries )
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(untitled)Category: Thoughts.
Tuesday, 21 August 2012
02:24:15 AM (GMT)
All I really know
is your name, and your face.
I don't know what you fear,
or desire,
or who you love.

But my artist eyes 
are always searching
for your perfect face. 
I see you,
just a glimpse,
before you're lost in the crowd…
And I feel happy.

I'd give anything
if you would only
sit with me
while I draw you.

I know,
I'm weird,
always nervous and laughing,
always carrying around old books
that no one thinks I'm old enough to
care about.
And you're so distinctly different, 
or a different social plane.

I've never seen you smile.
You always look so…
Are you thinking about him?
Wondering? Asking why?
Or are you
thinking about some girl?
Do you love someone? 
Could you ever
love me?

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