She sits across from me and sips her coffee. She stares at me; she talks; she asks questions. She is naive and young... and beautiful. She has those common traits of someone who is unaware of their own beauty and it makes her even more lovely. Her lips are pouty and delicate and my heart races a bit when she uses them to speak her passions. She wishes to save the world and I almost believe she could. She leans forward as she talks and a strand of wavy black hair dangles down and interrupts her thoughts--but only briefly. Her hand--delicate and tan tucks it in it's place behind her ear. She continues and I sit, I listen and silently muse. She knows not what she is to me and that is the way I want it. She is my heroin and rules my dreams effortlessly. I am only her confidant.
One day she will move on. One day she will forget. Yet, for me she will remain subliminally.
Thav
No comments:
Post a Comment