Couple kissing in the dusk
Photo by luizclas on

It doesn’t start with love. Anyone who

says it does is lying through their heart-

shaped tongues, poisoning their

memories, and taking the past as fictional

fact. He or she who remembers love as a

moment full of promise, of perfect first

sight and eyes fixing past the body and the

breast, and the groin is a liar. And let’s be

honest, we’re not looking for that

promised one who will make our lives

worth living, we’re just looking for

someone who we could be giving all our

physical desires on towards – a beautiful

castle with a velvet bed inside.

It’s not outwards we look first, not if we

are honest and we mustn’t look there first

if we want to be a novice in this petty

petulant game of love – bishop takes

pawn, Queen takes king from behind.

So when I looked in to her eyes I did not

see the natural green that glowed so bright

it frightens me how it delights me –

reminds me of fields under summer sun of

my time in France. And her hair as brown

as mine, so divinely kind her smile. Her

voice is soft, carries with it a gentleness I

hope is real. I hope she’s more than just a

beautiful girl. I hope she’s more than a

broken fantasy.

I am tired of waiting for them to see me

too. I don’t love her, but I could.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *