if you were there, this would be easier.
...it was in the cold air of a fall morning, just as this part of the world was waking. the street lights lit the dark morning sky, and the cold stung my ears, ever so slightly. the bus windows were foggy, and i sat on the cold fake leather seat, purposely the seat directly behind the one which she always sat. i saw her climb ou the three stairs and turn into the seat. she wore a white fake-fur coat with a cheeta-like animal print in black and like every weekday morning i gazed at her. she had short hair, dyed black, with light streaks of blue, that seemed barley noticeable unless touched with the right light. i would stare at the back of her head and neck and make up wild dreams about her turning around to ask me my name. or to tell me how chilled she was, and she woundered if i would sit and cuddle until we got to school, to keep her warm. but it was alot of dreaming and not so much talking...no talking acually. none at all. i would just dream of this beautiful girl and i had no notion of what she was like, other than that she listened to marilyn manson...she wore a shirt of his from time to time, but other than this fact, i knew nothing about her, just made up a perfect fantisy. so i guess in the end, she could have been this horrible person, but i dont know, i only know about what i made her up as. and it is still stuck with me, this beautiful infauation. stuck behind the eyes of a beautiful, muted tragedy. now you can see through it, through the obvious, behind my eyes.