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DRAIN ON THE SOUL I hate it when you call me your buddy. It injures me, like a metaphysical knife carving through my soul. Yes, i was messing with your cousin. Now that is over. But was hasn't changed is how intrigued i have always been by you. Before she and i began dating and now after she and i have stopped. You have remained a constant longing, a secret desire - something that i prohibited myself from approaching out of respect for her and out of respect for your previous relationship. But now both of those things have changed. And now i am your "buddy." What you dont understand is that the Butterflies continue to Rush; they continue to flow wildly through my veins, through my heart, into my brain, provoking hot flashes, Kool-Aid smiles, fluttering lashes meant to entice that which you protect behind those eyes... Am i really just your buddy? I am conducting guerrilla warfare on you; i am slowly building myself into your life; being your buddy, listening to you, making you laugh, being there for you, until you realize you like me around in more ways than one. Its always the male friend that has the best chance of getting the girl, sometimes anyway. Why do you throw your arms around me? Why do you get happier than i do at my good news? Why do you look intensely into my eyes like you do? Why do you touch me so often when you talk to me? From my perspective, that is translated into interest; from yours, it is innocent warmth toward a friend. Its not fair to women to do that to men, especialy if she knows the power of her own beauty. Anyway, we're taking these classes together and after each class i engage in hazy, dreamy utopian scenarios that are so abstract that i cant even explain or describe them. Can i see you as my girl? No, you're too materialistic. Can we talk intellectually? No, you're not an intellectual. Can we talk politics? No, politics bore you. I can't talk to you about the latest fashion, or sneakers, or cars. To me, that's superficial and a waste of brain power and a drain on the soul which is meant to impact and change the world. We wouldnt be able to relate. Yet, i am drawn to you. Your energy is drawing me to you; your smile, your beauty, yes, but your eyes, your innocence and childlike quality, your earnest desire for goodness and a good life, your natural warmth and vulnerable heart, your sweet disposition, and your easygoing personality. I don't know where this will end up. Sometimes, i plan guerrilla warfare that ends with you in my bed. Sometimes, i wonder what could happen beyond that. Sometimes, reality sinks in and i know that nothing will ever happen. For now, i really f-cking like you; i feel like a school child when i am around you,,,like i am trying too hard to impress you; like i was trying to impress that prettiest girl in school. Like the pigeon doing its mating dance, doing his thing in an effort to get to the promised land and satisfy the needs of instinct. _, you excite me and stimulate me and make me feel young and fresh and nervous, but it would never work. i guess i just want one of those intimate, quiet, candle-lit, soft music playing, spontaneous, erotic yet highly romantic moments where we suddenly both realize we want our lips to meet in a soft, slow, caressing, suggestive, sweet kiss that informs our souls how much we dig each other. That;s what i want. The rest is for Him to decide. _
[submitted
03/08/04] |