(no subject)
Infatuation is an odd thing.
I wrote a poem about life before her,
then generally about her...
...a second poem follows.
They will both be posted tomorrow.
This girl...
...she hardly knows me, though she thinks she does.
We knew each other in partying days.
Perhaps other days are in our future.
I want to know her for who she is.
When I see you this weekend, we must be alone. That is the only way to get to know someone uninhibited. Undivided attentiong given to you, undivided attention given to me. Shall we eat?
~Justin
I wrote a poem about life before her,
then generally about her...
...a second poem follows.
They will both be posted tomorrow.
This girl...
...she hardly knows me, though she thinks she does.
We knew each other in partying days.
Perhaps other days are in our future.
I want to know her for who she is.
When I see you this weekend, we must be alone. That is the only way to get to know someone uninhibited. Undivided attentiong given to you, undivided attention given to me. Shall we eat?
~Justin