I'm starting to think that maybe the best part of love is the imagining of possibilities. You can run your hands through all the different maybes as if they were a clear puddle on a rainy day. The images ripple and plip-plop by in your mind - how he will say hello, how he will ask me to dance, how we will kiss that first time, how we'll talk for hours on the phone, how we'll fall ravenously in love with each other, how we'll secretly begin to wonder at how deep our love runs, how we will change, how we might grow apart. I can look at boy and see an entire unwritten story of adoration, pitfalls, and fairy tales. I wonder what boys see when they look at me.
Maybe one day one of them will grab a pen and start writing our story.
Maybe one day one of them will grab a pen and start writing our story.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please nothing intentionally vicious or derogatory. It's hard to remember sometimes, but everyone on the internet has a face somewhere. (And if you ignore this, then yours is clearly stuck up in your bid-ness.)