Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
This is a little standalone I wrote in like 10 minutes.
Whenever it says "He's beautiful" thats supposed to be with a strikethrough, but you can post that on here, so just remember that. Except the end line isnt strikethrough.
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He's beautiful.
He doesn't know me, I see him every day.
He's beautiful.
He glances in my direction, he thinks I'm weird.
He's beautiful.
He orders coffee and sits at the table next to mine, avoiding me like always.
He's beautiful.
His eyes scan over the paper in his hands.
He's beautiful.
His lips curve wonderfully, reading over something in the black and grey mass.
He's beautiful.
He's done with his paper; I'm frozen, staring obnoxiously.
He's beautiful.
He picks up his sketchbook; he's drawing.
He's beautiful.
His hands move gracefully, my eyes are fixated on the white; he's trying to ignore me.
He's beautiful.
He chews his lip in thought, but my eyes wander back down to the page.
He's beautiful.
He looks over at the waitress for a long moment, my heart sinks.
He's beautiful.
His fingers are back hovering over the paper, the charcoal scratching as he moves.
He's beautiful.
His brows furrow as he examines the work, it's adorable.
He's beautiful.
He tucks a strand of his black hair behind his ear, licking his lips; he knows I'm staring.
He's beautiful.
He sips his coffee, his thin perfect lips resting gently over the brim of the cup.
He's beautiful.
He takes pencils from his bag and starts coloring the sketch; I can't see from the corner seat.
He's beautiful.
He sweeps his hair back from his face again; my heart is beating so loud I swear he could hear it.
He's beautiful.
He works hunched over more this time; trying to shield it from my staring.
He's beautiful.
He's completed it, he sits back and looks at it, adding little finishing touches here and there.
He's beautiful.
He scribbles something in the corner and brushes the table off, putting his stuff away.
He's beautiful.
He stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder, picking up his coffee; he's sick of my stalking.
He's beautiful.
He's leaving a tip; probably his phone number for the waitress as well.
He's beautiful.
He's walking over my way; he's going to tell me to stop being the freak I am.
He's beautiful.
He stops in front of me, I try to apologize.
He's beautiful.
He smiles, my heart melts.
He's beautiful.
He hands me the drawing and heads for the door, saying he didn't mind; he's never coming back now.
He's beautiful.
He gave me a pretty thick piece of paper, my breath catches; it's me, colored and shaded perfectly.
He's beautiful.
He's gone when I look up; I can see him halfway down the city street, his jacket wrapped around him.
He's beautiful.
His name is scribbled down at the bottom of the page; Gerard W.
He's beautiful.
His handwriting is messy, but I can clearly make out the symbols under the name; his phone number.
He's mine.
Whenever it says "He's beautiful" thats supposed to be with a strikethrough, but you can post that on here, so just remember that. Except the end line isnt strikethrough.
---------------------
He's beautiful.
He doesn't know me, I see him every day.
He's beautiful.
He glances in my direction, he thinks I'm weird.
He's beautiful.
He orders coffee and sits at the table next to mine, avoiding me like always.
He's beautiful.
His eyes scan over the paper in his hands.
He's beautiful.
His lips curve wonderfully, reading over something in the black and grey mass.
He's beautiful.
He's done with his paper; I'm frozen, staring obnoxiously.
He's beautiful.
He picks up his sketchbook; he's drawing.
He's beautiful.
His hands move gracefully, my eyes are fixated on the white; he's trying to ignore me.
He's beautiful.
He chews his lip in thought, but my eyes wander back down to the page.
He's beautiful.
He looks over at the waitress for a long moment, my heart sinks.
He's beautiful.
His fingers are back hovering over the paper, the charcoal scratching as he moves.
He's beautiful.
His brows furrow as he examines the work, it's adorable.
He's beautiful.
He tucks a strand of his black hair behind his ear, licking his lips; he knows I'm staring.
He's beautiful.
He sips his coffee, his thin perfect lips resting gently over the brim of the cup.
He's beautiful.
He takes pencils from his bag and starts coloring the sketch; I can't see from the corner seat.
He's beautiful.
He sweeps his hair back from his face again; my heart is beating so loud I swear he could hear it.
He's beautiful.
He works hunched over more this time; trying to shield it from my staring.
He's beautiful.
He's completed it, he sits back and looks at it, adding little finishing touches here and there.
He's beautiful.
He scribbles something in the corner and brushes the table off, putting his stuff away.
He's beautiful.
He stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder, picking up his coffee; he's sick of my stalking.
He's beautiful.
He's leaving a tip; probably his phone number for the waitress as well.
He's beautiful.
He's walking over my way; he's going to tell me to stop being the freak I am.
He's beautiful.
He stops in front of me, I try to apologize.
He's beautiful.
He smiles, my heart melts.
He's beautiful.
He hands me the drawing and heads for the door, saying he didn't mind; he's never coming back now.
He's beautiful.
He gave me a pretty thick piece of paper, my breath catches; it's me, colored and shaded perfectly.
He's beautiful.
He's gone when I look up; I can see him halfway down the city street, his jacket wrapped around him.
He's beautiful.
His name is scribbled down at the bottom of the page; Gerard W.
He's beautiful.
His handwriting is messy, but I can clearly make out the symbols under the name; his phone number.
He's mine.
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