crushing
Sometimes, I ask myself why I am here in this land of cactus galleries and turquoise whorehouses, but then, I see a sunrise like this morning’s-all papaya and amber-or drive home when the sky is dark with secrets and know why. The desert stirs me. Life stirs me. Honeybees are circling and flirting more than ever, and I want to sting and be stung by all of them. I’m not used to this, this stirring in the belly and waiting so patiently and not caring about anything but the moment.
There is a dangerous kind of boy across the way-a Dangerboy-and I don’t know why I am intrigued, but I am. There are questions in the air; yet so many go unsaid or unanswered and then, something else lingers. I wonder, “Is this attraction,” and second-guess myself and think it’s just a passionate friendship, such as I have with logan. The Dangerboy writes letters and reveals things that sometimes make my cheeks go pink. Again, I am unused to being so constantly surprised by someone else. I’m used to being able to read people easily and gently. What is more is he seems to be studying me as much as I am him; we’re like animals in a clearing circling and pausing. He brings a book by my house, “Because I was thinking about you and thought you should read it” and engages in long conversations that reveal a lot more by what we don’t say than what we do. Yet, he hasn’t broken physical barriers, which is strange for me. I’m used to people invading my territory and welcome the chance to match scent with face.
Each time we talk, I have to keep myself from looking at his eyes too long because I’m afraid that all the masks and casual posturing will fall away and maybe I’ll look like a silly girl with a silly crush. I don’t think I used those words for it until just now. Crush. It makes it sound like being fascinated with someone is like making orange juice with force or beating someone in a sport.
This is nicer and more uncertain than feats of physical strength. I don’t know where it’s going, but I’m all right with that. I like the journey-whether it’s reciprocated or not
I have a crush, a baby-bee one.
Beatrix Kiddo AKA Big Silly Dork
There is a dangerous kind of boy across the way-a Dangerboy-and I don’t know why I am intrigued, but I am. There are questions in the air; yet so many go unsaid or unanswered and then, something else lingers. I wonder, “Is this attraction,” and second-guess myself and think it’s just a passionate friendship, such as I have with logan. The Dangerboy writes letters and reveals things that sometimes make my cheeks go pink. Again, I am unused to being so constantly surprised by someone else. I’m used to being able to read people easily and gently. What is more is he seems to be studying me as much as I am him; we’re like animals in a clearing circling and pausing. He brings a book by my house, “Because I was thinking about you and thought you should read it” and engages in long conversations that reveal a lot more by what we don’t say than what we do. Yet, he hasn’t broken physical barriers, which is strange for me. I’m used to people invading my territory and welcome the chance to match scent with face.
Each time we talk, I have to keep myself from looking at his eyes too long because I’m afraid that all the masks and casual posturing will fall away and maybe I’ll look like a silly girl with a silly crush. I don’t think I used those words for it until just now. Crush. It makes it sound like being fascinated with someone is like making orange juice with force or beating someone in a sport.
This is nicer and more uncertain than feats of physical strength. I don’t know where it’s going, but I’m all right with that. I like the journey-whether it’s reciprocated or not
I have a crush, a baby-bee one.
Beatrix Kiddo AKA Big Silly Dork