Always Wanting what I can’t Have.

There she is. The brown-skinned beauty that walks down the street every morning and greets with a half-hearted smile. Her brown eyes stare down into my very soul and every night I dream of those brown eyes staring down my body to a place no other woman takes my heart. I’m addicted to her body. The way her hips sway in those pants she wears when she walks to school. Ah, I’m hypnotized. Sometimes I get on the same bus just to watch her put on her bright red lipstick and rub those ruby red lips together. She powders her face with eyeshadow and mascara. And she rests her hands in her pockets looking aimlessly out the window to the world where we should be walking together in. I love her. Why can’t I have her? Why does she fucking fight me? What does she love in those other people? She can’t get what I can give her from those other people. Why can’t she have me back? Those ruby red lips invade my dreams. I want my palms to rest on her sides. I want her all to myself.