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The Perfect Shade of Gray

His eyes were the perfect shade of gray. The gray of a thunder cloud claiming the sky with its power. His eyes were the perfect hypnotise. With the count of three I wanted him. He was something to perfect to waste. So why shouldn’t I flirt a little? He knew what he was doing. So why shouldn’t I have fallen into temptation? He walked as if he was untouchable, something I found dangerously sexy. He is a trophy you would never take off a shelf. He is not a toy to be played with. This boy is limited edition. He stands out in a crowded hallway which would never be a bad thing. Once he caught my eye it was far too hard to look away. I would have someone come and stand in front of me to block my view, but I still wanted so badly to look. Why did his eyes have to be the perfect shade of gray? Why did I have to beckon him to me? Why did he come? He could have just kept walking. But no, he came, knowing what his perfect shade of gray could do. His walk, the flex of his shoulders, the one hand in pocket, I know who I am look that filled his face; it put my eyes and heart into a trance. This is not obsessing, or at least I think not. Whatever you want to call it just know, when you find yourself lost in a perfect shade of gray, there is no escaping the deep abyss. It stays, rattling your every thought, transforming the works of your mind, to where there is nothing else to think about but the gray. His eyes were the perfect shade of gray, pulling me down into a wonderful abyss. He was something to perfect to waste. He could heal a heart all on his own. This boy was limited edition, but no money could add up to what he is worth.



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