When we were kids, you would countdown from ten and when it got to one you’d come looking for me. Chasing me. When you wouldn’t be able to come find me, I felt relieved.

Now, I think of you at ten; the first time we talked. Your eyes at nine and how they lit up something inside of me I had thought never existed. Your smile at eight and at seven, your warm breath in my ear telling me everything will be alright. You tell me you love me at six and at five your lips are pressed against mine, your hands are everywhere. At four you disappear and three you’re back out of the blue. At two you feed me lies and then at one you admit what I’ve always known: you tell me you love her and you’re gone for good.

This time when we got to one and and you did not even come looking for me, I felt disappointed.

-L.K.

They call me vain
They call me cold
Although, some say my heart is made of gold
I tell you to give into your deepest desires
Even if it means bringing down the greatest empires

Maybe that is what makes me cold
Willing to wreck the most grandiose and prepossessing to satisfy a simple desire

Or perhaps it is what covers my heart with gold
Because it is nothing but a delusion of grandeur that was rising above all else. What occupies captivating appearance is not always charming.
Now think again about all the empires that were down.
Look at it from the alternate perspective.
Your refusal, I may understand.
But then,
Does that not make you vain rather than Me?
-L.K.