Our eyes meet. Little glimpses of you always made my day. I notice how my ears listen to the lectures, while my eyes lay on your rosy cheeks.
I’m mustering up the courage to talk to you. As I take my time to meet your gaze. I’m suddenly painted with anxiety. Silly, I know.
For a moment I felt the butterflies flutter again. Yet now, accompanied by fear.
I never acknowledged that your eyes never meant to meet mine. But only to the butterflies that surrounded me. I still get butterflies when in fact, it never occurred to me that they were moths.
