I love you with my imagination; Picture you sitting there in the dark corner of a cafe or bar, Dark hair slightly tousled from last night's sleep and the way you constantly run your hand through it when Deep in thought. Your poetry ignites a flame in the pit of my stomach and I read it with a giddy smile -- the same one I used in junior high when I saw the boy flavor of the week -- and I imagine you, threadbare cargo pants, faded blue pullover, old, well-worn sneakers, to be much sexier than the boys I knew back then. Edgy, sharp tounged, and part asshole, you are so desirable. Quite possibly, you are nothing like I imagine. Perhaps you are all suits and ties, or Abercrombie casual, but the dark, tousled hair seems a constant... A twenty three year old girl from so far away, connected to you through a glowing computer screen... Loving what she imagines you to be.
Reason for writing:
JD -- I want you to know that I am certainly not a stalker, and if I frighten you with this poem, I apologize profusely. I never post here, but I drop in to read everyone's stuff here as often as I can. :)
Birth sign: Aries
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