.4*

you were restless

so was i

tapping your fingers

against the table

creating music

oh-so-nonchalantly

while i was trying

not to spill the coffee

holding the mug

so tightly that

my knuckles turned white

while i stared at your hair

black as the night

you smiled then

looking into my eyes

merging my forest green eyes

with your sea blue ones

alas,

the sea is not what

the forest needs to

s u r v i v e

.

i am loving this crap i call 'my writing'. who else is?