SORRY IT'S LONG BUT THE CREATIVE JUICES WERE FLOWING... Once, I was totally besotted with a boy. I would hound him, attacking his tough spirit with venomous hurt, via my acerbic tongue. For years, I trailed his shining heart. You have that certain taste, that special smile, those thousand dollar-a-piece eyes. I would gather around him like smoke from an unattended cigarette, my arms and heart and legs, I only wanted more limbs with which i could cover his entire body- consuming him as I would a juicy peach. Give me your left hand, carry your bag with your right, and walk with me to a place that can be seldom found. For years, I courted him in reverse. I loved him to the point out of right hate. We would speak on the phone to each other every night, sending over mixed messages and wrung out bitterness, all the while saying, 'I love you' with a false hope held under each syllable. Your ears will take water and block the sweetness of caring syllables of your supposed friends and cellophane lovers. He told me that he couldn't make love with me because he was not sure if I was his 'one'. I was being worn down to a rambling mess. Your poor soul will not have popcorn to nibble, will not be given a footrest, won't be treated to a skip or fast forward button. I was highly strung, was crying over the smallest matters, breaking down, skipping school, stealing away, and all I got in return was a false sense of being cared for by a cold, cold hearted boy. "Fat is a word of distinction. Killing is newsworthy, death is referred to in the third person, nipple warmers are a must in New Zeland, curry is the arseholes friend, cafes are booming, the weather changes as I do, Dylan hasn't come back for a year now." Sipping coffee and cruel you take a seat across from your reflection and converse in non-sensical dialects of Balkan tongues. The beginning of our second year together, signalled the end. The end of a demented affair that was labelled 'a love'. TAKE CARE LIBBY XOXOXOXO