an ode to the hallway crush (short poem/story!)

(sorry for using correct grammar in this </3)

-

As I fall into the pitch white void

(the one called 'bedroom ceiling'),

I can only think

of you.

Not of you, more like,

about you;

every little thing I can remember.

Every little thing I made up.

I assumed that, because of your eyes,

which were colored like the sky,

turned into the ocean when you got upset,

into a dark, twisting vortex.

I assumed that, because of your clothes,

you would take me on dates

to sports games I didn't want to see,

but would still attend out of love.

And yet, I know nothing.

Only your face,

the color of your backpack,

and which times you appear in the hallway.

With that, I am content

with a love that will be 

eternally only mine to see.