Thursday, June 17, 2010

Of Untrained Glances

"Glancing the other way, when you see something beautiful. Looking away when something inspires you. The pain of such beauty. Can you not bear it?"

Pause. As he looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"I entice you, don't I?" That is quite fascinating", she said, looking over the rim of her coffee cup as she drank her brew.

She was indeed quite fascinated. It amused her to see the way he behaved around her. The way he'd not notice her. Purposely refuse to acknowledge her. The way he'd glance at her from the corner of his eyes to see if she was laughing at his jokes.

"Hah! You're quite vain, are you not?", he said derisively. "My, my. The amount of beating that humungous ego must be taking everyday. How come you haven't committed suicide yet? I'm sure you have at least suicidal thoughts?"

She looked away, still unruffled. In fact, with what was disturbingly to him (and so it seemed to her) a self-satisfied smug expression.

"Fine, shall we go riding?" she said, quite abruptly.

"What?" He was quite nonplussed.

And before he could say anything else, she said, "Come! Lets go horse riding! Its been so long and I love horses!" Off, she skipped across the main road, crowded with traffic, pedestrians and coffee tables.

It was a pleasantly sunny afternoon. The heat would have been unbearable, if not for the shady road. The trees swaying to the rhythm of their own music, generating a soft breeze. He was left wondering. Again. Probably for the gazzillionth time. What is she?

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Here, keep with thee all these
Dispensable tokens of Affection.
I give them to thou, my love
To remember me by, when need be.
Of fleeting, ethereal moments,
That might not stand the test of time.
Those whimsical fantasies,
We wove together.
Keep them with thee
To remember the pain
That absence creates.
Carry them wherever thou wants,
So that I can see.
But then. I must tell thou this,
I wouldn't really care
For all thy antics,
That amusing pass time for me
Something I commiserate over,
To shake my head in pity.
Move on my love, move on.
I don't really need thee.