He was a boy with blue-black hair,
and a chillingly deep obsidian stare.
He had pale milky white skin,
and that fresh, sugary kind of grin.
He had a dash of freckles on his face,
like nature had enough stardust to waste.
He’d catch your eyes in a room full of noise,
a quiet steadfast figure of elegant poise.
And when you first met him, you’d suppose,
he was a lot of polite and superficial shows.
But if you take a chance to taste real friendship,
he’ll be the sweetest treasure you’ll ever grip.
Wishful Thinking 