one issue ive always dealt with
is finding out that young men i consider
my friends end up with more than just
friendly feelings towards me. it often
makes me wonder if guys befriend me because
they are trying to build a relationship
or if they honestly & truly just want
to be a friend .
recently, someone surprisingly revealed
that he wanted to be more than friends
and it sucks because he's an awesome guy
but im just not intersted you know ?
usually im good about these things and keep
up the friendship but when someone basically
tries to force their way in i tend to get
a little you know... uncomfortable...
sigh...
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
july 29 2oo8
his touch is so powerful because thats where his gift lies
fingertips manipulate, force, press, and glide producing
lucid dreams controlled only by his mind flowing so naturally
like waves hit the shore so do his thoughts hit the fingers he
plays gently he captures the mood in his palm and it drips
softly following to the tips and bleeds onto the canvas he
bleeds , he breathes it , his life force making him so amazingly
capturing holding my attention. i watch, i desire that same touch
that same passion i beg it to be bleed upon me. the magic in his
hands fills me and i glow nothing else encompasses my mindbut
his magic. i lust for that power that touch as i yet sit back and watch. the magic, the power that he has envelops me i stare wanting eye contact hoping that maybe that passion
in his hands will burn through those eyesand see me the way he sees his canvas
his instrument he is the painter of his love he pours his colors into her & the sight
& sound produced is unmatched. eyes glazed over he looks at me as i watch
they glimmer but for a moment and he breaks his gaze he stops the silence is so loud
i look away .. why does he hide the magic for me?
disclaimer : intricate thoughts , not poetry.
fingertips manipulate, force, press, and glide producing
lucid dreams controlled only by his mind flowing so naturally
like waves hit the shore so do his thoughts hit the fingers he
plays gently he captures the mood in his palm and it drips
softly following to the tips and bleeds onto the canvas he
bleeds , he breathes it , his life force making him so amazingly
capturing holding my attention. i watch, i desire that same touch
that same passion i beg it to be bleed upon me. the magic in his
hands fills me and i glow nothing else encompasses my mindbut
his magic. i lust for that power that touch as i yet sit back and watch. the magic, the power that he has envelops me i stare wanting eye contact hoping that maybe that passion
in his hands will burn through those eyesand see me the way he sees his canvas
his instrument he is the painter of his love he pours his colors into her & the sight
& sound produced is unmatched. eyes glazed over he looks at me as i watch
they glimmer but for a moment and he breaks his gaze he stops the silence is so loud
i look away .. why does he hide the magic for me?
disclaimer : intricate thoughts , not poetry.
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