So..um...im bi...just kind of realized it this year and um...i dunno.
but this is just a story i wrote...
There’s a girl. There’s a girl that I love. This girl who walks with a certain lightness, like she’s floating. And her hands will flutter at her waist and then reach up to brush her hair out of her face, sometimes caught in her lips. Her knees will stay bent, never lock, and she will just barely let her heels touch the ground. Her toes will curl and uncurl when out of the closed shoe, tighten, then relax, as if testing the air. Her head will be held at a slight tilt which comes naturally, and her golden-brown hair will slip off her shoulder. Her eyes will catch everything, always held wide-open, and she will comment on things you wouldn’t normally notice. Or sometimes they will slow to a stop and unfocus, staring past you, seeing only what she can see, and her lips will part slightly, and her breathing will slow. Her smile is anything but fake, slightly crooked, with teeth, her eyes shining. Her laugh will be full, wild and sometimes unexpected, like hundreds of beautiful macaws bursting into sudden flight simultaneously. She likes coffee, with all the extras, and extra whipped cream, please. She leaves large tips, whatever the situation. She never uses a credit card, and keeps a couple dollars of change in her pocket, plenty of pennies. She makes friends with any stray kitten like its her purpose in the world, and always returns to feed it, until one day its gone, and she turns to cry, my arms wishing I could do more than just hold her. She wishes on every star, every chance she has. She keeps several cell phones at home, carries two around in public and gives one away to a particularly endearing homeless man, then dumps a couple 20s in his hat, and laughs when he asks her for her name. She likes rain and storms, dancing with an umbrella at her side, useless, collecting water in its outstretched limbs as she gets herself soaked, her head back, catching raindrops on her tongue. And she always returns with a cold and slight fever, which she laughs away, when I tell her to stay in bed. She uses words like splendiferous and somnolent, not always in the right context. And if she realizes the mistake she will blush and laugh happily. She forgets things easily, and never minds if you repeat your stories over and over again. Each time it’s a renewed interest, and she loves listening to my poems or would-be songs. Her eyes will close, like she’s asleep, but when I least expect it laugh out loud and stare up at me, her head in my lap. She will untie my shoelaces, then tie them again, and repeat it over and over, easily entertained. She will always take a candy from the 25 cents isle at a supermarket and never offer me one. She won’t be perfect, she makes mistakes, and she wont always be there.
