The eyes that I imagined weren't the eyes I saw. The folklore of young love passed down to me turned out to be a hoax, a flaw. I could see you and even feel you. A tattoo on your forearm of the waves. A dragon fly is imprinted on your left upper arm. I saw your cut on your lips, the way your eyes twitch or move, glancing over everything, but not once it came to me. A gaze at you, a child dreaming to be loved, wanted to be loved.  I was standing close to you. I hear your heartbeat, unsettling and confused. I wanted to get an answer, so I Move my hands towards your fingers to get a warm clasp.  Cold, cold were your hands, throwing me away. A child felt that pain, neglected by a loved one. I tried again but dropped my fingers. You shrugged. I stopped; it marred the appearance of my love.  I saw you; the eyes that I had imagined are not the eyes that I saw. You couldn't even hold my hands. Are you even worthy of my love at all?