Girls Like Girls

Would I Ever Be Able To Kiss You?

We get to see each others' faces almost everyday, not that I'm complaining anyway.

But it's not everyday that I get to swoon over her beauty..
That I get to immerse myself in thoughts..
Thoughts of being able to see her everyday.

Today she looked more than the word beautiful.

Sweat glistening on her skin, that small acne on her forehead, her cute lips that curved up in that charming smile, and obviously the tiny mole to top it off..

I kept staring, looking at her, for seconds..
Minutes..
More than I should..
More than necessary..
More than acceptable..

I kept observing her image, her stunning existence, the visual sorcery.

To others, she might be some average girl next door, with a tan skin and average features.

But it's upon me to describe how alluring she is.

Her skin is not just tan, it's one of the most gorgeous coppery shades that she's got by the grace of sun.
Her skin does not have the most perfect texture. It's slightly oily, but that's what makes it more gorgeous, shining brightly under the golden sunlight.

Once my fingertips accidentally brushed against her cheek, and honestly, I haven't regretted touching that sculpture ever since.

Her eyes, not too big, not too small.
Her eyelids are feathery, beautiful even without a mascara.
Her eyeballs, the colour of dark chocolate, and I could literally dive deeper and deeper in that pool of charm for time immemorial.

Once we had a staring contest, and guess who lost!

Her lips, just the right kind of plump and pink.
Not that baby shade, it's like that nude shade of lipstick almost every girl in my college yearns to buy.
When she talks, her lips dance along the rhythm of her words, and it's a masterpiece.

Once she caught me staring at them, and nothing could define the term "panicked gay" at that moment, better than my goddamn potato face.

The moles, one on her left cheek, another over her beautiful lips, both of them tiny enough to go unnoticed, but significant enough to make her look even more stunning than she already is.

How can I forget about that one mole on her neck, it's slightly bigger, but it suits her.

Her hair, it might not be as smooth as silk, it has become a bit rough and frizzy, but I still love it, especially when she does French braids on them.

Once I gave her an oil massage, and she loved it.

She looks so cute, even though I don't tell her that often, but she is legitimately, cute!

How can I not mention her smile. That charming, breathtaking smile, which brightens my mood, makes my day, and makes me feel so much better if I'm in a condition not good enough.

And-

Sometimes I imagine her in my arms, even though she's one and a half inches taller than me;

I imagine being able to look at her for hours and not get tired of fathoming her beauty;

I imagine squishing our cheeks together as we cuddle on a couch;

I imagine her luscious lips between my slightly chapped ones, moving slowly, softly, sensually, s-

SHIT.

SHIT.

I'M TOTALLY NOT WHIPPED.

I SWEAR TO LUCIFER.