Fiction Series - Story Eight

In the mist of your dry care

I wait for you. 

I wonder why I stumble upon your path, somehow intriguingly, we meet.

Is it the sleek skin across your hairline or the creases across your palm, I doubt. However, this unknown magnetism leads me to you, like a strong connection making my heartbeat reach its peak.

I wait for you.

The thrill of your existence exudes in me to such an extent that I can't even remotely put you out of my mind.

 I wait for you.

You're in my way, so inevitable.

All the vacant spots in my mind has been reserved and taken, by you.

But when I reach within your sphere my legs wobble, they fail me terribly.

Hands shiver, incessantly.

And my mouth goes dry as every rehearsed line fades out as I lay my eyes onto you.

Maybe I am an invisible girl amongst the crowd waiting for you to see a flick of me, a tiny one perhaps for my satisfaction.

Hopes are high, dreams unrealistic,

Oh reader doesn't matter,

let me live in this space, for it's perfect in my mind.

Maybe

I am just another admirer of yours.

Waiting, just waiting. 

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