By: Maram Mohammed
I looked at him, thoughts racing through my head. How can someone be so delicately masculine? How can his hands look so rough, yet feel so soft. How can someone contrast oneself so perfectly. Every time he speaks, his voice compels me to listen. I often don’t know how to reply back, so a smile breaks through instead. I don’t know how many times i smiled lately because of him, and god may it never end. I selfishly want everlasting doses of him. I am on top of the world yet terrified, so terrified. Because I have no guarantee that my parachute is strong enough to withhold my sadness, when my infatuation halts.