My Broken World

We do the things that lovers do. The waiting, the bickering, the sweet nothings, those 3 small words. Whenever you go out of town, you keep me on track. You always have something for me form that place. On my part, I have given a whole lotta foodstuff. That’s kinda a clue if someone is the current apple of my eyes. I show love wiv munchies. Well how are things between us? Lemme see… we hold hands, we kiss, we hug. All the familiar scenarios found in people who have a “thing” goin’ on. But the fact is, we don’t. What sort of a thing can you possibly have with someone so oblivious? Who flirts when you’re not around yet denies the act itself, excusing it as being friendly. Been there, done that, overused that line. We do not own each other but for crying out loud, to the world that knows me, we are so labeled. I should not detest this confusion. For I intricately webbed this all over me, not that it was deliberately nor conspicuously planned. I just slightly shimmered my way through to you and succeeded, to my surprise. How could two perfect strangers turn into such complimentary company, sinfully sweet souls entwined. I wanted to have you and now I do, I wanted to be close to you and now we’re practically inseparable. But I want more. I wanna possess you in a clearly set out you’re-mine-I’m-yours storyboard. Sad to say, someone got to you first. I have no hatred for the unknown though. What I have is animosity for the pug face who’s trying to snake its way around you. I know, the two of you pro’ly would have twice the chance of getting acceptance than you and I. we’d get the flak from all the high and might entities all around us; to hypocrites we can bring forth utter dismay and denial; to those who love us, they’d be filled with sadness if we take the road less traveled and quite possibly, regret, maybe even disapproval for those who cannot quite fathom the feelings involved. Oh well, there’s a million in one chance of you ever crossing the borders with me. So I say, we’re better off this way. I can remain in this delightful dilemma. We’d be as seemingly matched as whipped cream is to frappe. You will love me as I shall love you. It’s just that as to the depth and shade of my love, I’d rather that you never get a clue…

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 27th, 2009 at 6:27 am and is filed under WiCkEd wOrLd of OsSs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.