And in these places you appear differently.
As a painting without description, waiting to be analysed. Waiting for approval to fill your void, just like how you wait for each compliment to slip out of my mouth.
As someone’s shadow. I can never fully grasp how I can have no idea who someone is, but ultimately knowing their shadows in and out.
As the wind blowing my hair. Its as if it longs to do what your hand does before, when youd tuck my hair behind my ears to see more of the face i try so hard to hide.
Will you ever just appear as yourself?