leave something to the imagination .
keeping at least ten feet distance make my turls coe . he makes me jumble my thoughts. thoughts of prickly vines that choke out the assumptions i have of him . i wonder what he likes to do in his leftover time . leftovers are always the best, i wonder if he can fit me in . ill squeeze .
i wonder if he likes my music . i wonder if he's the 'strong silent type'? i have always liked the golden way he stares but never speaks . its almost as if he's concentrating on remaining sexy . holding, gripping on to that mystery that makes him ... him . i wonder if he's the artsy type ...seeing the world from a twisted lense with colorful cool tints. like me . i wonder if he's ever seen me: hand glued to my chin with my eyes glazed over ; we run into each other time to time . sharing .75 glances of introversion. i wonder if he has looked right through me as if i was some 5'5 glass window of nothingness .
i'd rather not know .
i dont want to know him . i dont want to find out he likes soft rock music & hates kanye & NERD . i dont want to find out that he's a math major with a minor in boring . i dont want him to lack ambition . i dont want to hear 'bitch' come out of his mouth ...staining his lips with the hopes i once had for him . id rather we didnt meet.
i'll just hold on to my constructed prototype . id rather hold on to my hot, artsy, simplistic you .
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