how marvelous it is that in only seven years,
your hands will have never been laid upon my body.

in seven years,
i will have left this worn out city
and have found love at least once more.

in seven years,
my body shall be elegant
and my words ever-so-wise.

in seven years,
you will lust for my touch,
for i will be beautiful.

in seven years,
our paths may once again collide.
perhaps in some small coffee shop,
but only one that plays smooth indie
and hosts open mic nights for aspiring writers.

in seven years,
you will remember how much i appreciated
those small coffee shops,
and the other small things that life has to offer.

in seven years,
i will be sitting there,
in that very coffee shop.
drinking my coffee and
working on that novel i've always wanted to write,
i will be.

in seven years,
you shall take a glance,
and take note of my profound beauty.

in seven years,
not only will beauty glow from the outside,
but it shall radiate from the inside as well.

in seven measly years,
when you remember who i am,
and the part in my life
you once played,
all you will be able to do is simply
stare.
-l.c.g.