Mahongany Melancholy

Look, there is no reason for this. Buck the #$%^#$ up.

Remember the girls you dated before? Toned, tanned, and tight enough to bounce quarters off their bellies. This girl was nothing, and she has not left your mind for over two days.

What was so special about her?

Try to remember…

Well, be shallow. You didn’t even get to talk to her, right? So, it’s ok to just judge her off looks. Go ahead and ASSUME her feelings from that tenth-of-a-second look in her eyes. I’m sure you saw the whole of her soul.

Arms. They weren’t frail, bubbly, nickel-bagged or cottage-cheese. Nothing bad about them…that blouse she had on, with the green that absolutely popped her eyes (if she was wearing colored contacts, screw it – don’t want her) had no sleeves, and those arms were ok. I could take that.

No problem.

Eyes were good, moving on.

Who knows about the legs, never even looked. Who looks at legs unless they’re attached to something special that’s walking away. She’d be wearing jeans, but had on some criss-cross strap-type heels…

damn. Ok, only models and girls with confidence and A+ bods pull that off. she passes.

shit. Where am I going to see her again?

Humble desires floated with the arrogance Cuban cigar smoke. The night was chilly, and his fleece did no good. His lips were cold. Bedtime.

Leave a Reply