She was probably too immersed in the scenery she stared outside, that she did not even notice how her friend had been staring at her in questions and visible confusion, or probably she did not see her friend because her straightened black strands cascaded down her cheeks and left eye. It was supposed to be a mere hang out with a close friend, inside a cozy quiet place with caramel paints and wallpapers, a place that serves beverages with sweetness that resembles a curse to forget the pain. And here they were, she and her trusted friend, sitting facing one another in a tiny cafe.
They had been there for hours, but they did not talk much. It was her way of appreciating her friend here, and it was also her way of enjoying the sunny weather, so contrasting to her current being as a whole right now. She did not move, nor did she alter her sitting position. All she did was just staring out of the window watching the cats gobbling the dry snacks littered on the concrete. Her friend at the other side was staring at her, with frowned eyebrows and she bit her own chapped lips. It was quiet, but it was common.
The last conversation they had was about 'ideal man'. And her friend asked her what kind of man she adores, but that question was left hanging just like a balloon being released to the sky. And she did not answer it, because she was thinking, or perhaps because the cats outside appeared to be more attractive than the term love. But at the time her friend had sighed and leaned back, she finally chuckled.
"Just a man who notices me." she finally replied as she coiled her fingers around her warm cup of tea, and stared down at it, straight at her own reflection,
"A man who notices me as an extraordinary woman. I have met with many men yet none of them ever stunned when they saw me. All I need is a man who perceives the world in another unique way, better than mine. A man who admits that I am not a woman but a being who surpasses the term love and beauty." she then took a sip of her tea and smiled softly when she watched her other friend blinking and smiling knowingly.
-but sadly that kind of man will never exist for her, she is not a beauty, and it is difficult to find a man who never prioritises beauty-
YOU ARE READING
Tales of A Libra
PoetryThe author wonders why most of the poems she has read are all about love. Will life be constantly surrounded by love? If yes, why she has not found one? However, suddenly there was a song, and a starry night, that inspired her to write. And follow h...
