Another part of my screen play.
I’m okay. „I’m okay“ – she said, whispering in her bright yellow wool scarf.
Her skin tone is in the middle of peach and sun kissed brown and her eyes are green. But not a really nice green, more like a greyish kind of tone, that would perfectly blends in with too long cooked broccoli. You know, she hast that thing about herself. She shines, but you can’t see it until you let yourself fall into her crazy beautiful aura.
I was in love once, but it didn’t go so well. You know. Someone cheated, the other one cried, threw a fork, broke some furniture. The usual.
Love is a weird thing to think about. But I’m not a poet; I am not a philosopher or a doctor. I am just me. And I know that I really like this girl, who smiles at me, who eats avocado in the school bus every morning and who smells like…a mixture of gasoline and roses.
Don’t worry, I am not a weird stalker.
Words and Poetry 