He’s different. He like to be seen but not heard because actions and attire say what his words cannot. He has volume without being too loud and it peaks a certain interest of mine. He likes to be acknowledged but not approached. Just the simple fact that he was seen is enough.
His posture says he’s confident and sure and proud… but not boastful.
Idealistically, he’s the one but he gives it room to breathe… just in case you change your mind. Just in case you aren’t ready for his authentic “swag” and knowledge of all things right for you. Because he knows it. But plays unaware to the fact that potentially… he could be that.
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.
I’m barely floating.
The only thing above the water is my nose but I know that one slip off of this slippery rock that I’m standing on could be the death of me.
One more raindrop and I’m officially drowning.
“You look like an A+,” she told him.
“I mean, honestly, I’ve had C and B- guys. And they looked like C and B- guys, so I wasn’t let down with them. They didn’t surprise me or disappoint me.”
She picked up what had to be her 6th long island and took a long drink.
He was surprised she wasn’t slurring her words and falling all over the floor.
She seemed so well put together and unphased by the colossal amounts of alcohol that was invading her system.
the only thing loose about her was her thoughts.
“But you,” she grinned, “you look like you’d know what you’re doing.”
She stood up from the stool, stumbling a bit but catching herself immediately like it was just a missed step.
“You look like an A+.”
He laughed loudly at her, “you’re drunk. I’m taking you home.”
“Yes, I am drunk,” she admitted proudly.
He could tell she doesn’t do this often. Yet, she was composed.
“I’m drunk and you’re not taking advantage of me. That’s how I know you’re an A+.”
He gave her a confused look, “what exactly is an ‘A+’?”
“It means you’re a good guy.”
“You’re okay with a girl calling you at 3 in the morning to come and pick her up from a bar where she has gotten completely drunk. You allow her to continue drinking and talking about her shitty life while you listen and sip you’re water with lemon.”
He chuckled and took another sip of his water… with lemon.
“That’s good to know,” he said.
“And you’re probably incredible in bed,” she said nonchalantly sitting back down. “You look like sex in jeans.”
He spat out his water.
“But I couldn’t have sex with you. All because you’re an A+”
“That makes no sense,” he said, wiping water off of the counter.
She was CLEARLY drunk.
“If I have sex with you, I’ll start to like you more than I already do. And then you start to like me and it’ll… can I have another drink?”
“No, you get water,” he said adamantly. He wanted to hear the rest of her explanation. She had basically just admitted to liking him AND wanting to have sex with him in the same statement.
But… she was also drunk.
The bartender brought the water, “would you like the bill?” She asked.
“Yea…” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his card. “Just use this.”
He turned back to her, “drink this.”
“A+’s aren’t supposed to be bossy,” she wagged her finger in his face.
“Finish your story,” he laughed while basically shoving the straw in her mouth.”
“Oh.. yea…,” she took a forced gulp of water. “It’ll become a thing. And I’ll hurt you.”
“What makes you think you’ll hurt me,” he asked her.
He didn’t believe someone with a soul as beautiful as hers could ever hurt anyone.
“Because you’re an A+,” she sighed. “And I’ll hurt you before you get the chance to hurt me. Be it intentional or not, you’d hurt me eventually, and I’d end up right back where I am now.”
She layed her head on his shoulder and immediately started snoring.
“And I’ll be right here with you again,” he said finally understanding her reason for being alone tonight in this bar. “I’ll be that A+ that fixes any bumps and bruises that I cause.”
They both sat there for fora while.
Her in an intoxicated slumber and him assessing the conversation that they just had,that she may or may not remember when we woke up.
But he’d be her A+… and he’d be there.