Three Times A Fool Poem by Mita Diran

(Misunderstanding)

It's amazing how foolish young folks can be; young folks like she, heaving high hopes upon her shoulders, never minding how hot that Summer was, never minding those beads of sweat rolling down her neck.

Who are they to tell her that 'ladies do not sweat'? She did not care.

She saw the most beautiful reflection in his eyes.

That reflection was proof that he saw miles and miles into her. She knew that he loved her much more than she could ever love him. She could look at him without feeling afraid, and tell him just how much she understood him.

Even if she wasn't really seeing him at all.

Now she misses him the most, but what is she missing, really?

His love, or a mere shadow of her own perfection?

.

(Mistake)

Zap! - and that's how fast it was.

Too much, too soon, that she couldn't even begin to think about the consequences.

Everything was a whirl of eye contacts and phone calls and conversations over coffee- She was wrong wrong wrong, but she was so taken by his charm that it felt so right right right-

Then the bell tolled, ending as abruptly as when it first rang, and she skipped back to reality with both feet hitting the ground.

Crash! - and that's how hard it was.

She had lost her pride.

Perhaps, even, more than once.

And that hurt more than any bloody papercut sliding back and forth against her skin.

Oh, how she would rather bleed..

.

(Misinterpretation)

All of a sudden, she was back to square one. He was the first obstacle that came to her, emitting a different kind of aura that wasn't exactly mutual with hers.

Everyone liked him.. although just, except her.

She was afraid to know him. She was afraid she'd like him as much as the rest of them.

Yet he was a persistent little fellow, always knocking on her door, bringing in tales of himself as though prodding her to open that book she has so fiercely guarded ever since.

He brought interesting stories up his sleeves; spilling so much of himself that she often wondered if it was okay for her to know, saying so much that it made her feel like an unwilling intruder of his privacy.

And that was quite unfair, wasn't it? She kept her book locked while he glaringly flashed his own for her to see. But then what do you do when your gut feeling says 'no'?

She opened the book anyway, and let him read from it, page after page.

It was barely a chapter when he fell silent and backed out through the same door he'd always used to knock.

Just as she was starting to want him.

She wondered what went wrong.