It Shows On Your Fingertips

It wasn't about sweet talks and possibilities between him and her. It was about the undeniable tension that she could feel when he was around. All painless light yet conflicting irregular heart beat in every second that passed, slowly, gradually shaping her foolish attitude.
Moment where she caught his eyes staring at her which caused her body fell right away, denying gravity that occurs. Excitement she should hide under her eye bag, hardly maintained.
Everything went a little too messy here and there but it felt flawlessly right.
She miss him that much she could feel it along her vein, travels through her body. It was all about what she could not get through indirect distance that separates them in person, hand and mind. She stood by her tip toe, looking way outside her window. To the innocent floor where she once found him, four hours after midnight. It was about what was there.
Hours that she wished could be repeated million times, as much as it has played back inside her head. It was about everything from the morning sun till the songs on the radio that reminds her to one posture of a liar. A liar that kept all of her faith more than anyone else.
You know, most of the things that could go wrong will always be saved by a statement of prejudice.

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