He draws me in
with the questions he forms in my head.
He draws me in
with dangerous daydreams.
Fingers running through brown hair,
an arm wrapped around another in the night,
wishful thinking.
He draws me in
with warm eyes.
Mischievous. Playful.
Eyes much older than his years admit.
He draws me in.
While the loneliness grows deeper
and the memories grow darker
still,
he draws me in.
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