excerpt from a book I’ll never write #1

It was when he looked at me with his cold blue eyes did I realize that he didn't deserve every poem I wrote about him. He didn't deserve any love letters I didn't send to him. The emptiness in his blue eyes told me everything I had yet to know. He was never a saint. He was the boy my mom warned me about. But oh God, writing about him was an addiction I couldn't stop. It was an ecstasy. Whenever my pen meets my paper, his name was the first thing that popped up in my mind and in the end, I would write about how his blue eyes kill me in the most beautiful way.