Is this good, for a start?

well i was bored and started to write, i emailed it to my reading fanatic friend, and he said "I'm thirsty for more" i laughed, but what do you think? is it good? any pointers?

As I saw him soar through the streets, maneuvering through the crowd, he disappeared. I couldn’t see him anymore. The people seemed like cows being herd into their stalls. The voices shouting “move out the way”. I seemed to drown in my big personality. I needed to see him once more. I knew he didn’t want to speak to me. His hair swayed in the air. Black like burning charcoal, white as ivory, smooth skin like a model, a body that meant to be worshipped, he was a god, a deity in my eyes. The tall skyscrapers lay a shadow on the sidewalk. I heard his voice ring out like a bass violin singing its sorrow lullaby. He got into a cab, its wheels swerving on the hot asphalt avenue. I screamed his name out with tears running down my face. I wanted him to be with me. I would probably never see him again. His golden eyes that resembled honey, his full wide smile, his pearly white teeth that light up my dull office. What was his name again? Raulmundo?

I walked back to my office. I felt so disappointed. Everyone looked at me, like I was a freak. Was my hair out of place? Was my mascara ruined by my tears? Was my heart broken? Of course! I chased after a man that I never seen before. His singing and beauty immobilized me. I couldn’t help it, I needed to meet him. He was great for the music industry and well…me. I opened my office door, not bothering to hear my assistant shout out dates, meetings, and brunch with useless people. I slammed the door behind me and stood in front of the mirror. I looked like I just had a child, recently released from the hospital. How fast was I running? My hair was insane, just like me. I chuckled at the thought. A mental asylum would be my final destination. My emerald green eyes were still bloodshot from my tears. They seemed to twinkle with sadness. My rosy cheeks and nose made me look like a child. My almond burgundy hair that clung over my face, damp with sweat. I sat on my chair and leaned on my desk. I looked on my name plate Annabell Riley