Borrowed Parts

February 27, 2009
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I do not love him. I just think about him all the time'
He's' different.
I guess he means well.
What do I care, anyways? Remember: I don't love him.
But, I mean, it is a good thing to have a nice guy.
Whoever is around him is always in a good mood, right? That's a good thing I guess.
He's pretty cute, too. Not gorgeous. But still cute.
Except, he's too self-conscious. He doesn't believe in himself.
What good is a boy who doesn't believe in himself?
How can I believe in us if he can't believe in himself?!
He'll grow-up one day, though.
He'll be a great, great man.
The best thing about him is his eyes.
Because as soon as his tongue makes offense, his eyes heal the wound.
He's young, too. But his mind is years ahead of him.
Which is good, right? I like smart boys.
Don't I?
Maybe that's what's attracting me to him.
But I don't love him.
There's ripeness in his lips.
Something that makes me always want to kiss them.
Something that tells me not to stay away.
But not to get any closer.
There are girls who, if they saw him as I did, prodigious, would have gotten closer to him.
To fall in love.
But, as for me, I don't love or hate him.
Though I have more cause to hate him.
And why is that?
He said I hide behind a fake smile.
And, now I remember, he ignored me.
Ignored me when I couldn't ignore him.
But not because I love him.
He asked me to tell him myself.
And I marvel at why I didn't.
Maybe because I myself hoped it wasn't true.
Or maybe because I just didn't know what was said.
I think about him when I'm not with him.
It's not 'cause I love him, though.
Or is it?
I'll write him a tempting letter.
And thou shalt bear it.
Wilt thou, prodigious?

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