and when i told him just how beautiful he was tossing a pomegranate seed in the air and catching it gracefully between his rose-coloured lips it seems the pomegranate juice had temporarily stained his pale cheeks
Something is out of place. Something inherently molecular within her myogenic wilderness: a modesty, an awareness, the visible manifestation of her shyness. It contracts. It tones. It colors her openly, just as the sky. Involuntary, just as stimuli. There's something new about this face. Something awakened. Something lovestruck and silly. For what else could exert such a dilator mechanism, in all its deliciousness?
Most girls love having crushes. The thought of someone new. Asking themselves, “Is this it? Could this be the one?” Allowing themselves to be hopeful that this one will be different. But then there’s girls like me. Girls who have anxiety. I hate the feeling of liking someone new. I hate having crushes. While other’s get butterflies, I get angry wasps. My heart doesn’t skip a beat. Instead it pounds against my chest like I just ran a marathon. I don’t blush. My chest heats up and gets covered in red splotches. When I look down at the ground I’m not doing it to be cute. It’s better to look at the ground than to look into another set of eyes that will never love you. While some girls lose sleep out of pure bliss, I lose sleep because of fear of rejection. I’m not asking myself, “Could this be the one?” No, I’m asking myself, “How will this one break my heart?” But I will let this crush crush me. I’ll soak in my hurt. Make myself fully aware of the tears running down my face. Remember how they feel. And I will move on. Like I always do. “Weeping may last through the night, But joy comes with the morning.” Psalms 30:5
Red leaves fell silently Under the maple tree by the lake Where we met Last autumn Late September; When the maple leaves turned crimson you made me blush just like those scarlet leaves That day ... Autumn came early, Why don't you,too...?