The story of us.
There is no story really. Well not of 'us' at least. Not yet. I just liked that line and thought I’d use it to write. To write this. You spoke with me today. You pulled me into a conversation, but so terrified that my ***** little secret will be found out, I pull away. And, you weren’t alone. Who’s he? He is so ******* good-looking! I see the way you look at him, and know I can't compete. I'm so jealous, that I just want to peel away.
The story of you.
Do you know that you have the most engaging smile? I am sitting in the dark, thinking. That’s what I’m doing right now, sitting in the dark, thinking about your smile. It was not supposed to turn out this way. This was not my plan. You were meant to be forgotten. You were meant to be never minded. I know that smile, and knew you would never be mine. My smile now stolen, by him. Who was that guy? And, Jesus Christ, why is he so ******* good-looking?!
The story of me.
I existed before you, you know. I’m almost sure I did. Before I saw that smile, before I heard that voice, before, I saw that...face. Before, before, before. Before I saw you, I had a pulse, I’m almost sure I did. Who is that guy? He's tall, and so ******* good-looking. And, with a ******* ******* beard! I mean, come on! I too, have a beard. Doesn’t that count? I know, I know. I'm not so tall, and I know, I am not so ******* good-looking. But, like him, but just like him, I have a beard.
And like him, and just like that guy, I now have A Story of Us.
