The timing is perfect, the timing is terrible. Here I am, my first year back in school after half a decade of work. I'm calling it coincidence for now...
The most recent significant influence in my life was a true innocent, happily married. I don't work there anymore, but she is forefront in my mind. You see, I've always been an asshole.
I'm taking an introductory course in Psychology and another in Communications. In the Psych class, about a month ago, a week before I first saw you, we were told that we are often attracted to mates who posses those qualities we most desire in ourselves.
I'm learning though, slowly but surely. First from her, the sweetheart. I would love to learn from you, I'm afraid (of what) you would learn from me.
The Communications class has been worthless so far; I've learned a ton, but here I am writing in my notebook as we make googly eyes from 20 ft. I can't talk to you.
Can innocence be regained? Would a little corruption be required?
What do you see when you look at me? And how much would you like to know what I see when I look at you? Would it flatter you or offend you to read what I think?
I live in fear. They are not prophecies, they can not self fulfill, I won't let them.
I carry this notebook for you. It gives me something to do as we sit here, 20 ft. apart, wishing the other would make a move. Like a painter with his thumb held before the landscape, I capture my idea of you in my spiral-bound.
I will put you on a pedestal, imagine an entire relationship, remove you from the pedestal, imagine a dark ending, and declare us over before we can begin.
I thought I would nearly break the first time you smiled at me. Such a small smile, had it not been reflected in your eyes I might have doubted its existence. It is your eyes though, your eyes which bring me back here each day.
If I can change though... maybe I can change. I would not hurt you for anything.
large, brown, soft
they stay with me for hours
no matter how I slouch you always appear to be looking up at me
in your simple clothes, you dress for other reasons
you probably still live at home
help your mother around the house
My day is over, at 2:30, when it is time for your next class
I rejoice when you take a longer route to walk by me
your hair is like your clothes, unintentionally beautiful
it frames your face
soft, brown, large
the glints, when you smile, little stars brought to earth
just for me
you shoot me honest volumes
you reflect my need
I would talk quietly with you, walk softly around you
soft, soft, soft Ilove