He’s strange. Eccentric. Off-his-rocker.

Bleach blonde hair and clear green eyes.

His words sparkle with intellect and grace,

Yet his demeanor is awkward and fragile, like a young bird about to fly for the first time.



Something draws me to him.
The rhythm he feels through his feet
The grace with which he moves
The way that he wears dress pants and leather shoes
Almost every day

I don’t understand him
And I will not try to

I’m not saying that I’ll throw caution to the wind…
Maybe he isn’t the dove he appears to be
Maybe his thoughts are bright red or dark black

But I feel compelled to accept him-to know him
Despite the sharp tones and degradations of my friends

He is a lost angel
Scatterbrained; incomplete

He’s searching for something,
While giving his heart to others

I’m not sure what he’s feeling
Or whom he thinks I am when he looks at me with those soft eyes

There’s definitely something off about him
But I don’t want to ever know

I see beauty
And I want to be less afraid of a person’s outer shell-
More in-tune with what lies within their souls