"I want the window seat", was her demand and I complied with no objections. Why would I want to sit there and be rewarded with the view of fresh greenery when I can experience the most wonderful sight from the isle seat?
That is, without a doubt, the view of her mindlessly staring at the fresh greenery outside.
And I can never be caught staring and found guilty.
She yawns and I fight the urge to poke her tongue--a habit I developed back then. Then my hand itches for something to do.
It's these days that I randomly find myself wanting to grab her hand and hold it, just like couples do. I kid not if I state that her hands are smoother than silk and soft as salmon. An unusual comparison that is.
In my mind I picture her and I together. We could be beautiful.
She is beautiful. As beautiful as the sunrise and sunset. As straight as the horizon. As certain as a firm yes.
However, the truth is ugly in the same intensity as she is beautiful.
The truth is that the possibility of me having her is as slim as a tight rope far away.
But right now, that truth is nowhere in sight as she is seated beside me and I just marvel at how clueless she is. And also at how love sick I am.
That there is enough for now.
YOU ARE READING
WORD PLAY
Puisi"The lonesome hours is when imagination is vast, limitless even". Word Play is a collection of poetry of all kinds made in the most haphazard moments of a gay girl's life. note: for the part about the 2015 movie Carol, see chapter titled "carol" P.S...
