true love

         You’re beautiful. 

          There is no hot or sexy and there never has been, and this is the kind of exquisite wonderfulness that made me trip over my own tongue and blush till I thought I would burst, made me stop and turn to God for the first time in my life and thank Him for what he’s done.  No notch in the bedpost, no trophy, not like the miniskirt sluts of yesteryear, the ones my friends still take out and take back and throw away… the ones who wouldn’t know a dongle from a VGA, Andy Warhol from Delacroix, a romance from a shitcom.  Taking your arm is like walking with a goddess.  I’ve spent my years in seclusion, bright-eyed optimism, and you are my reward.  You are the princess in my ivory tower.

         I saw you in a sea of people because I believe in love.  If not love, I believe in serendipity.  I believe in perfection.  I believe in knights and white steeds and holding the door open.  Your eyes are wide and exotic, black as coal and heavy-lashed, your bones are noble and your hair looks like snakes down to your waist, the unlikely russet of blood and sunrise.  Your smile is kind and reserved.  I see myself loving you.

          My gut says we are destined and my senses disagree.  I’m not stupid.  Take the passion without the understanding and it will burn bright and fleeting like a flash fire.  Take the knowledge without the flame and it will be lucky to see a spark.

          Give me passion and give me knowledge.  I want to know everything you have to tell.  I want to hear your stories and your hates and your loves, and I will be the happiest man alive doing it.



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         Horror, disaster.  Insanity.  Pain.

         Endure and it will stop.  No, scream your woes and it will stop.

         Your head is a fluttering mess, awash with fairies and nonsense.  The search has spanned my whole life and ended badly.  What came over me?  What made me waste this hour, this day, with you?  My life, looking for you?  Do I know?

          Of course I do.  What came over me was the face and the big sweet eyes and the disarming Disney innocence.  You lied to me and led me on with your happy grin and your bright kitten-face; you promised me brooding and deep pain with that smile so bright it had to be fake.  You promised to hide something there beneath your shell of effusive idealism, something I could dig up and claw to shreds, pick up the pieces and hug you till we were soulmates. 

          Instead I got something deeply disturbing.  Layers upon layers of naïve monotony.  Weird, unpleasant happiness.  I’ve met men, strong men, weak men, with colors you could not dream of, so much sadness and tragedy, bitter smiles that made me love them deeply and pointlessly.  They had the skin of lords and knights, the souls of Shakespeare, the love of men – but you, frog-spawn of boredom, harbinger of tears and disappointment, you are not my prince.

          Scream your woes, screams my head.  Make it stop.  Stop smiling your inane smile at me, stop blinking your huge brown eyes at me, flaunting your geek-model hair at me like you just stepped off a photoshoot for Jinx.  There is no world to you outside your sphere of art and computers and campy tearjerkers.  That’s why you can’t see my eyes glassing over.  Courting Diana, you will fail.  She wants no Adonis, to watch her bathe or to catch her at her own game, to lure her with perfection and then disillusion her.  You are cruel, and you were a fool to ever try.