The first time I met you…I wanted to know you. That’s the kind of person you are. You could fool any girl with that charming smile, but what’s underneath…is a little less than charming…or is it the other way around? Are you fooling yourself? What do you think beautiful is? What kind of beautiful do you desire to be?
To me…as I stand here watching you dance your drunkenness away with girl after girl…I’m not sure you like the kind of beautiful your body is telling you to be. I’m not sure your skin fits your soul…I sort of envision it like a sweater that is too tight. At least…that’s what the desperation in your eyes seems to be saying. I see you doing what a guy “should”…but when you looked at me…and we spoke for those 3 seconds…I saw something else. Are you caged?
Your motive is clear…I can tell which girl you’ve chosen for your one night stand based on the way you ignore nearly everything anyone else here says. You twist and turn her about the dance floor with the utmost suavity. You pull her close to let her know how much you need her, and then let her feel just independent enough as she twirls away. As your hands are about to break apart, you pull her back…signaling with your body that you “missed her” and never want to lose her again. Dancing is one of the most manipulative art forms. The only part of you that does not seem to be fully in the move is your eyes (of which she cannot notice having limited experience in the field of American men). I know what you will be doing within the next few hours. And it upsets me.
Why? Because of that look you gave me.
Well…I don’t think it is jealousy I’m feeling. I think it is sadness. I think I feel pain for the image of beauty that your head forces downward until it sticks like goo to your heart. I wonder if it still has the capability of detaching. Such a shame…because I think you may just have had a very beautiful heart. Do you think someone will come around one day with the capability to scrape that goo off?
I really wanted to know you, but it’s almost time to leave, and I don’t have a strong enough shovel.