You’re a real beauty…
The way your hair flows freely, barely touching your shoulders, but standing out right in front of your face as if to say “I’m here, what do you want to do about it?!” And you giving it an intense shake so it falls back on line for the time being.
You really are a beauty.
You wear your insecurities like badges of honor. Yes… I think I’m fat and my tummy juggles when I run and my thighs are huge. It’s impressive. You shy away in the most boldest of ways. I’m here… but I don’t want to be a bother. And it’s fascinating, today the least, how you tend to have a sort of permanent smile. Even when your face reads danger, there’s always a hinted smirk. Angry but not overpowered.
You really are a beauty!
An antisocial butterfly. An isolated being stuck in a crowd of people. Blending in wherever you go. But standing out just so everyone knows… I DON’T BELONG HERE. And then retreating back into the crowd… into your crowded corner of isolation.
You truly are…
There was this guy I once knew. Everything about him was different, but behind his eyes lied a truth I wanted to unfold, a story that had never been told. a dream not yet dreamt and a soul that was confused and unkempt. He was easy on the eyes but even easier with his words. And he called me brave. The fact that he was upfront about his flaws from the beginning made me more intrigued and interested. Normally, I’m different. Usually it would immediately turn me sour but with him… it was like I wanted to venture more into this thing he called his flaw and make it beautiful.
Only tiptoeing in the edge of love ensuring that you weren’t caught up in the web that was supposed to be us… Yet allowing me to drown in the ocean of my own tears from living you too powerfully.
Tears from the realization that you weren’t mine but hoping you would one day be and one day we’d fall into line and become in-sync and we’d live our happily ever after.
But we both know they only exist in fiction novels and fairy tales.
Yet my heart still longs to be back in its safe haven. My heart still longs for you.
He knows she’s not from around here, but can’t quite place her. Her mind expands beyond the boundaries of the land she currently resides in.
Beauty from a world other than her own and she knows it.
Her mind is from France. Delicate, sweet, and alluring. Yet, dangerously deep and twisted.
She has a way with words that are completely opposite of her actions. Complete sweet manipulation is what he sees in her. And it’s the tests she gives him that make or break this.
He knows her. He thinks he had her figures out. Yet he hasn’t come close to uncovering the complicated mass that is her mind. He’s lost and has yet to make is past the first loop. He doesn’t realize this and swears beyond a doubt that he knows her.
And that’s how she has him.
She knows more about him than he does her.
Just by the way he watches her and thinks it’s done secretly.
She knows how to get a reaction and uses this to her advantage.
He thinks he knows her.
But he’s wrapped around her finger.
You can’t run from me.
I’ll always find you. But it’s amazing, this little game of chase we’re attempting to play.
Truthfully, I’d be able to pick you out of a crowd of 1 million. Because you’d be that one attempting to escape. Thinking that you’re “blending in” but I’ll always find you.
Half way across the world you receive my letter, thinking that you’ve somehow managed to dodge me.
That’s not so.
I can tell you that you questioned the tomatoes you added to your omlett this morning and that you couldn’t find your favorite pair of jeans.
Probably because you wore then 3 days ago and they’re sitting at the bottom of your hamper.
I know your moves before you make them. So there isn’t a place in this world that you can go that I won’t know of.
You’re always being watched.
I thought maybe you’d find comfort in that. It’s not just for my tastes… it’s for your protection, right?
Someone always watching you to know what dangers are coming your way.
I can help you with that. But instead, you’re running from me.
It’s okay though. I’ll enjoy this game of cat and mouse.
But I know how it’s going to end already.
I see you clearly. All of you. The fact that you don’t know your full potential is mind blowing. You’re beautiful, talented, smart, sassy. Gifted in more ways than God himself intended for you to be.
You’re amazingly ordinary. The most beautiful not-so-plain-jane. You’re a conundrum. You wear so much emotion and passion on your sleeves that the world will swear that it knows you. Everyone will insist that you are an open book. The actuality is, yes, you are an open book; but you control what is read by who. You control what page each person in your life reads. You decide if they advance to the next chapter or not and I find that to be the most beautiful aspect of you. People not knowing the kind of mystery that you are.
You think quickly on your feet. Quicker than even you, yourself, realize.
You’re a silent force. Your mind packs invisible punches to the intellect of others. They never know what hit them. They never know your train of thought.
You rarely even know your own train of thought and that trait alone captivates my soul. It draws me to you. Your mind is this blinding light. Only the brave dare go there. Only those that are up for a challenge such as yourself. You are capable of destroying everyone in your path. And no one is aware of the danger that they are in.
I watch you without you even knowing that I watch you. Concentrating hard on your every move. That way I am able to better predict your next move. I see you. You don’t even know I’m there, but you are seen. I can probably tell you that you didn’t drink enough water yesterday and your favorite food changes daily. I’ve watched you so long. I could probably tell you what your next meal was going to be before you even know it. I’ve kissed you. In my dreams and in yours. You lay awake at night, and once you have drifted off, soundly, into a deep and undisturbable slumber, I kiss you goodnight. And right before the sun touches the horizon, I kiss you good morning. In my dreams and in yours. I’ve touched you. Only as a passerby in the streets. You grazed my shoulder with yours. Gently.. and turned around and spoken with the voice of an angel, “I’m sorry”
I’m sorry… I’m sorry… those words repeat in my head… I’m sorry.
I’m sorry. And me only replying “don’t worry” as you walked away going around the corner to your favorite bookstore. Don’t worry because you have no reason to worry. You are perfect my dear. You are. The grazed sleeve hangs on my wall. Never again to be touched my another. Never washed. It smells faintly of the lime and coconut shampoo you use.
And you don’t know me. I’m that undistinguished face in the crowd. Blending, falling in line with everyone just so I can notice you. I watch you without you even knowing. You are seen. And you my sweet are mine.