tonight i would like to share two different narratives:
it appears that she has tickled my fancy,
with her firm eyes always set out looking
she has tickled my fancy,
with the way she handles her words,
her laughter echoing into the air,
her scent, that of old books and flowers and tea
her smile which dazzled under the sun.
oh, how i love appreciating the little things.
it could be something that only i know of,
like the way she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear
whenever she is feeling nervous;
or like the way she tries to hide
her embarrassment whenever
her peers tease her of something.
she has tickled my fancy, all right.
but would she soon be doing the same to me, too?
the way he looked at me scared me so much.
i would walk down the staircase, the hallways,
and i tried my best to avoid his gaze.
his piercing eyes followed me wherever
i go and i never knew why.
was it because i was weird?
was it in the way that i dressed?
was it in the way that i handled my clothes?
he has caught my attention and i must make him stop.
or else i’ll end up like the last girl he just brought
down the woods for a nice picnic,
before she was gone for good.
