100 word love story

is he allowed to look like that?

is he allowed to be so god damn nice to look at?

when he talks i fall apart,

words leave his lips, pull me in, won’t depart

reminds me of a chilling breath on sunday afternoon,

but when he looks at her he sees himself the earth and her his moon.

so i’ll keep picking the petals away,

“he loves me, he loves me not”: what a horrible cliche.

but he looks like a dream and darling i’m sleeping,

so lock up my heart cause i’m in need of safekeeping