On Second Thought

Written Summer 2008.

He has the world's most beautiful dimples when he smiles.
They make me melt into a puddle of girly teenage giggles and whirring butterflies and racing heartbeats.

And when he's pensive he has the clearest, most intreguing eyes of glistening green and beautiful blue. Trying to describe them in their entirity would be as like to trying to explain to one without sight the majesty and piousness of the Taj Mahal or trying to demonstrate to one without hearing the febricant fantasia of a city weathered and whimsical during rush hour, as an orchestra of oblivescense, an Orion of ocracy as it were.


He is truely beyond convention or co-dependancy.

And a glass of wine usually brings out in me the desire to divulge my deepest feelings about him. But maybe he doesn't need to know. Perhaps it is better if I merely worship from afar and try to forget how clumsy he makes my conversation as I endeavour to obtain interest.


But maybe one day I will tell him.

I made a mistake.


It was always him.

Reviews

[Sujash I. Purna]

As unorthodox as it could be! Brave work. The scattered words...some unsolved puzzles...vaguely remind me of The Cure's Pornography.