2:30am and Wanting and Waiting.

I wish I could write poetry, so that I could tell you that you probably are the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me. That whenever I sit down to paint or write, you're all that I want to paint or write about. But you've given me this block in my mind. And no it's not a creative block, believe me. I just want a leakage of inspiration from some sealed, colourful part of my brain so I could draw this feeling, so I don't have to rant, so I could keep you to myself and not share. I just want to know if our hands fit perfectly like how a lollipop used to fit in your mouth when you were 4, like how a picture of you, your dad, your mom and your sister fits into a photo frame that is hung by the dining hall of your home, like how two pieces of jigsaw fit together. But there's dust on the jigsaw pieces now. I just want to know, would our elbows and knees fit better than yours did with the last girl you were with? Would your ey- No, this has to stop.

There are very rare people, actually probably only 1 who I would give up my art for, but you, you seem to snatch it away from me and just leave me with a wet paint brush and butterflies in my stomach and a feeling to just run my fingers through your hair. Oh and the hair. Your hair feels like cotton candy, but well, only blacker. 
This feeling just slaps me in the face and when I try to stand up, it punches me in the stomach and for some reason I keep try to stand up just so it punches me again and again. Maybe I do this because in all those punches there is this one time where it lets me stand up and makes me laugh and you and I laugh so hard tears run down our cheeks. And it is worth it. It is best to see you lau- Do you get what I'm talking about now?

You made flowers grow in my lungs and even though they're beautiful, I can't breathe.

I hate talking in metaphors. Metaphors like your smile is like sunshine after a rainy day which when touches my lips makes me tremble. But you just make me feels those things and what I've said earlier proves it.

I see you everyday and it bothers me because what I want to be mine, I can't even touch it. Can't even introduce a handshake because if I hold your hand once, I wouldn't want to let go, I wouldn't KNOW how to let go.  And even though I want our hands to fit perfectly together, they probably won't because you and me together, oh no, we would never fit in a rectangle paper, we would always have few paint splatter on the table and on the walls and would continue the paint trail to the ceilings. Oh no, you and me, we are not meant to be fit inside the check box. We are equivalent to chaos and chaos knows no boundaries.  

Fuck, I see stars when you look at me and even though most of our eye contacts last for 5 seconds, I see the whole sky in them... well a browner sky. They look like, um, chocolate river and man, oh man, who doesn't love chocolate. Who wouldn't want to dive into the chocolate river and explore what candied goodness lies within. It worries me that some other girl will see the chocolate river and feel what I'm feeling and would have enough courage to dive in them and you'll probably see the Space in her eyes and would want to explore the planets. And me? I wouldn't have a corner in that circle of new infatuations. I think I never did.