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Kina Mar 2014
He.
He is how I like my men.
He is tall, and kind, and funny.
He is smart and dedicated.
He is the type of man I'd bring home to meet mom.

He is gentle though at times sharp.
He is crazy and silly, yet stern when necessary.
He is amazing.

But he is older
And he is moving on, out, and away.
He is smart; too smart to wait around for a girl like me,
So young and naïve.
Inspired by the song "I Wanna Go" by Yuna.
Kina Mar 2014
I exited the coffee shop.
He was walking in.
The rain was pouring.
He offered me his umbrella,
And so I offered him my heart.
Kina Mar 2014
The sun was setting behind the green mountains,
And so was he.
Beside her, lovingly,
His arms wrapped around her,
A cloak of invisibility,
Hiding her from the world.
Keeping her safe.

He whispered sweet nothings to her,
And she listened contently,
Her fingers tracing the outline of his features.
His eyes.
His mouth.

They were his, yes,
But they belonged to her.
All of him.
From the tiniest strands of hair atop his head
To the skin of his toes.

He belonged to her.
And her, him.

In this moment they were two souls
Intertwined together both in spirit and
Physical self.

He'd caress her gently.
She'd smile and perhaps giggle
Although she vowed never to.

Her heart would flutter
And soon her eyes too,
For the night.

And although she'd sleep
She'd continue these
Blissful dreams of the two of them.

And when she'd wake
She would find him gone;
Only the memory of him present.
Only her dreams.
Kina Mar 2014
He found comfort in her eyes.
They were blue as crisp ocean water
Or a midday sky.

Or at least to him that's what they seemed.
He couldn't quite remember every detail of her eyes
Just that they were blue.

That's what his memories consisted of these days,
Vague glimpses that allowed him to reminisce solemnly
Without remembering any true details.

The memories of his friends, his brothers, his sisters
All faded into a black abyss with only the faint glow
Of the memory's outline still visible.

Perhaps he could glue back the pieces and try
To make some faux memory
But he knew that they wouldn't be the same.

The way she looked in that dress,
No.
What was her name?
What's the use?

As he tried to recollect his thoughts
He found himself frustrated, lost.

He thought of the dancers from that day.
The only day he'd been a true friend.
Objectifying women for him and his
Friend's own amusement.

Encouraging them to dance
Get loose
Take it off
Be good girls.

Those were the memories he
Wanted to store away
Behind the cobwebs in his mind.

But not those eyes.
Never those eyes.

— The End —