The thing is, I loved the way he looked at me, like maybe I was something worth holding onto. His eyes would rest on mine for what seemed like days and there was something there—something I’d never seen before. He looked at me like I was made of light, like I was something good. But now, now he doesn’t look at me at all. His glance is quick and sharp, it always runs to the floor and I wonder, did the light he seemed to see burn dim or did something tarnish what he saw?
a beautiful message I received from an anon (via palmist
This couldn’t be more true right now.