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We sat in class together today because
my group was small...
and your group was small...
so our weirdo professor made us.
And you sat next to me
(kind of)
and said I was brilliant.
(and it was funny, because I'm not, all the time)
I said I was psychotic
or brilliant.
It just kind of depends.
And you said it again.
And you gave me candy.
And you smiled at me.
And you gave me more candy.
And now I honestly feel very bad for not thanking you
and I feel worse for looking at your cleavage.
But you're so very pretty,
so I thought it would have been a shame not to.
But you shifted your sweater around, and you pulled it up
and I'm glad you did, so I could focus my attention better
on your angels face.
I forgot to ask if you were related to
anyone in the town where I come from,
because you look a lot like someone there.
Someone who didn't tell me such nice things.
Someone who didn't do such nice things.
Someone who wasn't as pretty as you.
And I wanted to ask you to lunch,
and I almost did,
but you had to go to work.
And I couldn't really hear what else you were saying.
Because you were whispering, and it was so
cute I didn't want to tell you to speak up.
But I'll see you again, and maybe I'll try...
if you really do think I'm brilliant,
and really do like to give me things,
and really are as pretty as you seem.
But you called me evil (and laughed) when I used you in my metaphor
about the icicle cleaving my chest when you are away,
that icicle of sharp loneliness
separation
and loss.
It embarassed you...
maybe...
maybe because no one says those things to you.
I'd say them all the time,
if you wanted to let me.
If that makes me evil then
you
can just call me
satan.
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