It's the beat of my heart when I see him in the hallway
The brush of fingertips as I pass
it's the slow movement of his eyes when they meet mine
It's the energy of his shots, the rhythm of the ball he so skillfully handles
It's the orb lights as we dance, dipping and twirling into what seems like nothingness
It's the stain he leaves on my lips and our entwined fingers
It's the way my eyes flash when I see him talking to another the crash of books as I drop them in shock
it's the the drip of mascara as I bolt down the hall
the force that knocks me off my feet as he catches up to me and pulls me into him
My arms as I try to rip my heart from his
it's not the color that blinds my eyes and threatens to run down my opal face
it's not the color of my heart being ripped part then stitched back together, that color is sadness
plain
and raw.