Lonely Boy
Oh, oh-oh I got a love that keeps me waiting
I see him again the next week. Same time and same spot. Only this time he doesn't have his headphones with him.
I debate whether I should talk to him or not.
He's staring at his hands again. His knuckles are bruised and his hands are all dry and cracked. He's wearing a beanie today, and his hair is just long enough so that it pokes out the sides a bit.
I go to open my mouth when Mom opens the door and he scuttles in. I close my mouth in defeat.
At six o'clock her door opens and he hurries out, meeting my eyes for a split second.
His eyes are gray.
I debate whether I should talk to him or not.
He's staring at his hands again. His knuckles are bruised and his hands are all dry and cracked. He's wearing a beanie today, and his hair is just long enough so that it pokes out the sides a bit.
I go to open my mouth when Mom opens the door and he scuttles in. I close my mouth in defeat.
At six o'clock her door opens and he hurries out, meeting my eyes for a split second.
His eyes are gray.