Tuesday, June 13, 2006

she loved a boy.

   Suppose there was a boy, with thick wavy hair that covers his forehead but only barely, a goofy grin, and a bed with a thousand pillows.

   Suppose there was a girl, with light freckles, multi-colored eyes, short hair and a fragile heart, that fell in love with him. She had no choice. She read his palms and admired his courage. And he made her laugh.

   Then she confessed what he already knew in one daring move, and when she held his hand he didn't move away. He responded. Almost too perfectly. He likes her.

   She smiled and tugged on his arm and when he told her he liked her, all she did was smile and nod in agreement. And it was the greatest gift ever given, he had chosen her over everyone. And she wonders why her? She questions everything. And when he's gone she misses him, and gradually she is afraid that he will slip away from her.

   Suppose she loves him even though she doesn't know what love is really about. Suppose he was the one. The only one she'd kiss or go to midnight movies with. Suppose she proposed to be his, offered him her arms and lips with no hesitation and only wanted him to love her back.

   He knows she would love him rotten, but could he do the same?

   What would he tell her?

Elle est effrayee qu'elle toujours l'aimera plus.

April, 2005
Used With Permission

By Professor Batty


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