Your Green Gaze

When I was in primary school, the teacher taught us about brightly colored animals. I don’t remember the fine details of the lesson, thought I remember the principle of it. She tried teaching us about animal habitats, where to find some animals, which animals to steer clear of. As all similar situations, students of that age rarely paid attention in these classes. One of the things that stood out to me, were how certain brightly colored animals should not be touched because they were deemed to be venomous.

I could take ages to describe the shade of your eyes when I first saw you stand in front of me. The teacher was right all along, wasn’t she? At least that’s how the romance novels and melancholic poems would believe us to think.

It was somewhere between breakfast and brunch. I could try and find the words it would take to which tempo the leaves fell from the grand oak n front of you or how my heart raced when it collided with your chest; do you also remember me being shorter than you? Do you ever really think of these things? Do you regret them?
“Slow down, you don’t need to run” – one of the saddest parts that I can think back to now, sitting on a bench with a degenerating joint and bone disease, miles away from where you are.