Literary Works

Ode To The Useless Publishings Major

       You baffle me with complex terms and advanced theorems. Though I do not understand your every word, I understand your every sentence. Perhaps it is a simple fact that I take pleasure in hearing you speak. Your voice never fails to hint at yet another interesting conversation. I admire your courage and selfconfidence. You possess a certain forthright that I dare describe as an egotistic tendency; however, it is not. You know when to back down but when you've down so, you still keep your determination. I also admire how you carry on while you think no one's looking. Or maybe you are aware I'm watching, so you put on a secret show. Only we are supposed to know what meanings it holds. How we silently communicate with stolen glances, wordless smiles. How I am tempted to lean forward and become familiar with the scent of your hair. To lightly sigh upon your neck and send pleasurable chills through your body. To arouse you with certain sensations that are breath-shuddering, spine-tingling, skin-prickling, cheek-flaring, temperature-raising, pheromone-releasing, desire-enducing... seductive really. I resist the urge to trace the contour of your jaw from earlobe to chin. The way you chew at your cuticles to pass the time is inviting in that it compels me to take those hands in mine and kiss the soreness away. To stroke your cheek, which I imagine would be delicately soft, and help you to pass the time. But, alas, there you go idly NOT paying attention and all I can do is ponder whether I strike your fancy or not.