Of beautiful things

You tell yourself you’re unbreakable, unemotional

You give yourself reasons not to pay attention to emotions

You like being called cold hearted

You build a haphazard wall of sarcasm and cynicism

You never let people know how you truly feel

It begins with a text; hey

You begin to talk

At first it’s careless banter

He’s funny, witty. Charming even

You laugh, you guard yourself. Never going to happen you say

But then it does happen.

Your random chain of thoughts somehow goes back to what he said

You catch yourself smiling sometimes

It pisses you off but then it doesn’t

You like it but you hate it

Then you look forward to the conversations

Those long unending ones that go on for days with an undefined pattern

You sigh, you cuss, dammit.

It’s happened.

Somehow those walls begin to falter and chip off

You’re no longer as guarded; you’re vulnerable

You feel free but then you’re scared

You like him and it’s not sarcastic or ephemeral; it’s the real deal

But you don’t know how to express it

You try but then you fail

And then you’re sad

Because you fear he might like you; love you even

But he might never understand you.

You promise yourself to try, he’s worth it?

You smile at his words, you fancy his voice with that south-eastern twang

He’s funny, cheerful, caring. He’s a lot of good things

A gentleman.

You find him beautiful and it sucks

But you like it and then you hate it

Deep down you know it but you refuse to admit it

That you’ve found it, found him

Your very own beautiful creation.

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Of beautiful things

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