There is a girl on the bus;
Who could become and already has my love.
I think she is blooming gorgeous!
But when I look at her, she always runs off.
Not literally, just mentally;
Like it has and always will be.
My heart she shall never discover;
Because she doesn’t feel the same for me.
She notices me, but only through eyes of apathy.
It’s a shame she will never know, of the way I do feel.
I could love her, if only she wanted me,
But those thoughts are only dreams; this is reality:
So beautiful with the brown hair;
So fine for all to view.
I don’t need to stare out of the window,
When I can stare at you.
What book are you reading?
I am desperate to know.
I will look closer and see if it is a poem.
Oh no! She has seen me and now thinks I’m strange.
I’m sorry for the mix up, but you are beautiful
And no, I’m not insane.
Just wondering which book you were reading;
Just wondering what you were thinking.
Just wondering what you thought to be important;
Just wanting a little taste of your thoughts.
But this is no poetry she reads;
I can tell from the way it’s written, that it is a novel.
With no pictures and stuff.
Just long words like something along the lines of:
Throw your fiddle-faddle out with the nonsensical,
Replace your diffidence, with something deleteriously reciprocal.
Send all your vehemence, towards my broken shell of a heart;
To purloin any feelings of felicitous; or a touch so intimate.
Such ingenuousness, from this baleful seeker of death.
Who has become resurrected, in the shape of a prophet.
So sequestrated, frustrated,
Overwrought at a desire to become elated;
But dreading the realization, that you shall never be interested.
In my thoughtlessness, or thoughtful benevolence;
She could be reading theologian terminology, or medical evidence.
She could be reading Harry Potter for all I know…
All I truly know is that she doesn’t need to be alone.
If she succumbs to my salaciousness for hardihood,
My resplendently illuminous, luscious heart of true love;
Shall be eternally enamoured with the girl who doesn’t like Me…much.
She must have a brain, Me thinks!
Me thinks, I could really like her.
But at first she growled at me like a tiger;
Go away and don’t look at me, Grrr! ! !
But the more she sees me, the less she growls.
She no longer looks at me with a scowl.
She looks at me with inquisitive eyes;
But fearful that I am a crazy guy.
But no I am human-e, just like some others,
But if you are single and I am attractive to you,
We could maybe do lunch together.
Whatever; you decide.
My balls are in your court.
You decide, what happens to the future of us.
Peace, much love, you are sexy as Hell!
Urgh! Look at me! I’m ugly and I smell.
You are divine, my petit smile of sunshine.
I saw it, you can’t hide it;
I stole your smile and kept it in my mind.
And now it is mine! Hooray for me!
I have this drop dead gorgeous woman; in my dreams.
I see her smiling, because I made her laugh.
I can’t believe how stupid this girl thinks I am.
But she is right to I guess, because of when we met.
We queued up together at the bus stop and I must have gone red.
Such beauty is so hard to look at and not drool…
Oh shit! Now she thinks I’m a tool.
Come back bus ticket! Oh no! ...
I run down the street and by time I’ve caught the ticket…
I am home.
So another week goes by and she has forgotten about me.
So here I am again, writing bad poetry.
Then the day comes;
I get to meet the beautiful woman on the bus.
There she stands, looking blindingly gorgeous.
There is definitely something between us;
Because now she refuses to look at me.
So I ignore her too…such silly kids.
Flirting, yet not flirting;
Deciding whether to flirt.
Testing the waters first;
To see if we are going to get hurt.
But I won’t reject you, you know I want you.
I am here, if you are ever feeling blue.
Give me a call, post me an e-mail,
Send a letter by post or just tell me you’re my female.
Then I will be there, to stand at your side.
Don’t worry if it rains…We take shelter inside
And check the time, or shall we just miss it?
Let’s stay here in private and talk until we are kissing.
(C) 2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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