The Art and the artist

 I noticed his anxiety from across the room. Let me tell you what I was drawn to (this has nothing to do with my OCD) he wore a white shirt and a lazy smile.  I must have chased him away with the fire in my eyes. 

He must have noticed that I wasn’t looking at anyone in the room asides from him, how is he like in his lowest, does he even consider that I’m trying so hard to make the picture-perfect, does he notice that I’m trying to put my hand in his just to make a statement. 

He is explaining to me how his imagination works, I’m explaining to my body that I need to calm down, why will my first impression be an image of him exploring my mind, and if there is time (my body). I understand how his mind works, will I want to be in exile with him? 

He is leaving, and I wish I said something more promising to make him stay. He kisses me on my hand, I’ve been staring at the hand!!! I don’t want anyone to touch it.