Piercing Glares, Enticing Stares

I hope my friends buy it — I tell them it was dark, I was drunk, and there was a very powerful fog machine. But I saw you again — we talked about your insecurities, and we talked about mine. We talked about mine actually, for the whole night. And you listened.

Then we kissed, and since that moment, I haven’t forgotten about the feelings that even a pathetic soul like me can experience. I hope you pity me enough to remember too.

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D.N.

What have you done with my heart? You walked away that night and I’ve been dying ever since. Where do you keep it? Do you take care of it? Did you just stash it somewhere? Toss it in the bushes? Did you stick it under a bench somewhere? I’d ask for it back – but it doesn’t work that way. I lost it to you. The first time I saw you, I thought I hope he is single. I hope he is not gay. I hope he is not too young. I hope he feels it too.

You seemed to? I was a little scared and very surprised to loose my heart so soon. Why didn’t we get to know each other better? Where is your heart- do you have one still? I wish I had yours. If I had it I’d take good care of it. I loved you so quickly and effortlessly. I think you are beautiful and I ache for you. My body yearns for you. I want to touch your face, your neck, your stomach, your hips. I know I love you. I’m so sad. I miss you. Someday maybe I’ll find my heart again, and soothe it, whisper to it, heal it. Maybe I will be o.k.

E.S.

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actions speak louder than words. that’s the old saying. but when i find you in my own god damn bed knee-deep with my cousin, playing hide the salami, it does NOT make for a successful relationship. and this the day after you gave me a promise ring?

oh, and by the way, i STILL have your spongebob squarepants DVD’s. my cousin may be single and desparate, but she is still 39 and won’t get your impish, childish humor. i hope you rot.

ps. can i have my rachael ray cookbook back?

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you: short, patchy faced looking adolescent, quietly seeking out male attention

me: slighty unattractive middle aged male

us: suburban bar in northern virginia, saturday night

at first i wondered why you weren’t talking to any girls and had surrounded yourself with the same sex the whole night. but then i figured out you were looking for the touch of someone like yourself. our eyes met and we instantly talked, but you left as quick as you came. where are you? i look forward to more conversations about alligators and reasonable prices.

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I saw you on the bus and I drew this for you today

You acted like I wasn’t there, just like everyone else in my life. Why don’t they hear my cries?

But maybe you will soon. I need you. You need me. You just don’t know it yet.

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i don’t understand how you could break it off. especially after that pancake breakfast i took you to. i fucking hate pancakes, and you know that. you are one twisted person, bragging to everyone that you were an extra in Armageddon…NO ONE gives a shit!! did you forget to mention that your real job involves a mop and a bucket of soap?!?!

just to let you know, i’ve moved on, and it’s YOUR loss. if i see you out at a bar, i won’t hesitate to request Chumbawama, because I know how much you hate them.

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I miss your lies.

You don’t have any friends. Bartenders and waitresses don’t count. And remember that guy who you drove 3 hours to see? He hasn’t called or emailed you in 3 months. That doesn’t count either.

I lied on the plane last night, just to see how you continually feel. I hated it.

ps. happy birthday

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