I am just a man,
fighting other men,
for land,
for land.
I saw her again today. Twice. The first time was at dinner; I avoided her until my courage seperated itself from my chicken and stars, and I went over to her table. She sat there with her nameless friend, and as I sat down, the friend rose with a smirk, giving me some sort of glance that only dogs make before they do the unthinkable.
All I could muster was a muddled "Hi." She replied with the same, though dripping with confidence. Damn my lack of wit at crucial times. Damn it.
"She has to know that I'm interested. It's only obvious!"
We chatted for a bit, interrupted by a mutual acquaintance, someone who we hid our newborn friendship from. Our conversation was cut short, and I departed, spending a cold walk and the next two hours floating in and out of thoughts about her.
"Nothing's going to happen. I know it already. I'm telling you."
It was 11 PM, and the office was empty. I said I'd visit, so I went right in and sat down next to her. She was at a desk; not hers, but she fit right into it. Sweatpants and a t-shirt made her casually beautiful. It was hard to talk, but I loosened up. Her eyes are so dark and deep, which made it hard to concentrate on them. There was so much to take in of her. The tender skin, smooth to the touch, although I wouldn't dare...not yet. Her golden hair: not blonde, but golden, as if it were worth thousands. The lips that held you there as if suspended. This is a complete person.
She generates magnetism, radiates something I haven't seen in years, and something I need to die a happy man. It gets harder to keep my mouth shut, to keep from saying, "Leave behind your ways, and run, run with me to a place where stars shine brighter by the hour, a place where glass beads and love trinkets lay in leisure. It will be beautiful, but not nearly as much as you."
Just a few more days until we are alone. Italian cuisine, the deepest Merlot money can buy, and our words, tangling and wrestling for answers. Is she for real? Is this something that I can manage? Will it stay this way forever, caught in between a lucid dream and fantasy?
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, man."
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