Sometimes, I get creative

Have you ever done anything that made some people come up to you subsequently and say “hey, you should totally do that again! People should pay you to do that!”? Well, this week, I’ve been experiencing that. “hey, that’s a great idea! You should write that! You should become a writer!” . A statement that usually makes me back away slowly with a nervous smile on my face. “hehehe, thank you!” Of course, I’m speaking metaphorically. I don’t back away. I just smile nervously and say ‘thank you’.

Sometimes, I get creative. Some people play with paint or sounds. I play with words. Sometimes, stuff comes out that makes me say after re-reading a while later, “Wow!! I wrote that?”. Other times, stuff comes out that makes me say “Wow!!! I wrote that? What was I thinking? What was I on?” Either way, words come out that mean something to me, and mean something else to other people.

I mean in the sharing mood tonight, so I though, “why not?” It’s my first time sharing something I’ve wrote like this, so I’m a little nervous. This piece said something to me. Hope it says something to you too.

PLAYING FOOTSIE UNDER THE TABLE

She will not flirt with you

No, she will not answer your texts with winking emoticons

She will not play footsie under the table

nor will she laugh at your jokes as she flips her hair.

 

She will slide her hand into yours

and confess her undying love to you

resting her head against your chest

as if seeking solace from her own turmoil.

 

Her eyes will smile at you shyly

as she asks “Do you like me too ?”

And they’ll beg for the right answer

but you’ll be too shocked, too unprepared to say a word.

 

As she walks her fingers across your chest and

lays her head next to your beating heart

She’ll say “I feel so close to you right now”

and she’ll feel your heartbeat quicken

to the pace of a talking drum.

 

What was it that attracted you to her?

Was it her calming presence? Was it her laid-back demeanor

or the sweet smile that never seems to leave her lips?

Right now, it doesn’t matter because all you can think about

is your exit strategy.

 

How could someone seem so pure yet be so deviant?,

you think as she slides her hand under your shirt

To stop her. To stop her now. To stop her, you think,

but how?

She seems satisfied with just you. with just your heartbeat and your pulse.

 

She must be a virgin, you think

This must be her first time

You’re her first pair of shoes she’s trying to break in.

Her life stories, laced with deep secrets,  start to fall from her lips like a waterfall

and you’re drenched, soaked to the bone

as she starts to reveal her soul to you.

 

Too soon!,  you want to yell. Too soon!

She skipped all the pleasantries

preferring to jump in with both feet sliding down the mountain of your ego

The Conquest has become the Conqueror

The Prey has become the Predator and in your head,

you start to think about the top 10 reasons why this was a bad idea.

 

Her face is starting to get close to you

and as she closes her eyes

the panic bell goes off in your head.

Too close! Too close! her eyes are too close together!

She smells like French fries! Her mouth is open too wide!

 

The words start to tumble out of your mouth

“It’s not you, it’s me” “I’m just not ready for anything serious”

“Let’s just be friends”, anything to get out of there.

Her tears and feelings  had become like a smear of mashed potato

on your Sunday best on Thanksgiving afternoon.

As the pool of tears gather around her eyelids

You know that you’ve become the Asshole that broke her heart.

 

You don’t like the label but you’re glad to escape

leaving the fragile, the delicate, the seemingly…weak

Alone to mend herself.

She’s crying. She’s yelling. She’s screaming. She’s running. Running after you

Quick! Think Quick! To get away from whom you now call Crazy

 

it all seems like a distant memory the next day as you sit

at your favorite table in the dining hall for brunch

You see her walk by, flanked by her General and Lieutenant

whose eyes tell the story of how she feels.

Death to the Asshole!,  Their piercing stares seem to tell

 

You try to protest. You try to defend yourself

“Wait. It’s not like that. She’s crazy! She’s not who you think she is”

But it’s a lost cause. They have long since signed the contract of Female Loyalty

 

So, you sink back into your chair

vowing never to drink again,

to only flirt with  sorority girls who never seem to expect much

and to never approach the girls with the glasses

 

Because behind those lenses, behind those deep eyes

Behind those sweet smiles

Lies the heart that has been more than twice scorned.


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