His eyes are a kaleidoscope of greens and browns, mixing together in the most enrapturing way. His body is lieth and strong, and it holds the most unexplainable warmth.
His laugh is soft and deep, and his smile brings the most childlike look to his already delicate face.
Words cannot fully capture his beauty; nor his gentle and kind nature.
I will still hold a piece of the happiness he gave me alongside the look in his eyes as he cried and left. I will still love him, though now only as a friend.
For although I am brokenhearted I find solace in the comfort of Russian liquor and thinking of the times when I made him smile and made him happy.
The part that hurts the most is knowing that I can no longer bring any comfort to him, nor can I warm his heart.
Perhaps a day will come when we can laugh together and once more find comfort in each other; in a friendship built off of broken intimacy. But then again, perhaps I am being naive.
Now though I can only hope that he does not hurt and that he is happy, and I can only wish that he will smile because of me one day soon.
I would die just to hold you once more, or to comfort you and make you feel safe. But I know that is not what you want, so I will leave you be until you wish for my presence or to hear my voice.
His hands are warm and soft.
I want to hold them once more.