K

Maybe I left you for a long time because I didnt want to give any more importance to K.

But it's too late now.


He's great. Have to hand it to him.


I am unofficially the pseudo-girlfriend. It's girlfriend-osity without the sex, the touch, and the commitment. But the semi-sanction is there. And the concern.


And a fair amount of sweetness. God bless the sponteinity. His. The pleasant surprises.

Ex: Having lunch with him. Before I go pay, I'll learn he's footed the whole bill. I just don't know how to thank him, so I don't. And as a stereotypical guy-guy, drams is too much for him to handle. If he's in drama, it means, its a real life situataion where it really is too much for him to handle.



I love him, I do. As a friend. A good one. As a pseudo-boyfriend. But not as a lover.


I am savoring every moment with him. His sweetness. His taunts. His car. His thoughtfulness. His manliness. His high regard for me.


He won't ever say it, but he is balled up in the palm of my hands. Its just every movement must be precise, and smooth.

The longer I keep this going, the worse it becomes. The bigger? Yes, the bigger. Sometimes, ofcourse, I'll feel like its slowly rotting... very slowly. Then something nice comes up. Like him showing up unexpectedly, like him breathing heavy on the phone and saying my name repeatedly.




My thoughts are inconsistent.


But the conclusion remains: I don't want a boyfriend. Not him. If someone's going to arrive, someone will. I don't want him hurt, I don't want me hurt either. I don't know why I'm letting this grow. And I barely have the will to stop it. And savoring it to the core may possibly mean nourishing it.

Gawd. I just want to write my poetry. Leave me be!