By maria
Date: 31 July 2000
perfection
he told me i was a romantic
that the words i spoke could make even death sound beautiful
he use to listen to me read poetry late at night
he'd stumble in around my second piece
and he'd play chess in the back corner with whomever was around
he thought i couldn't see him staring at me
with all the florescent lights shining down
which was true
but i could feel him
i would read for as long as anyone would listen
and he would play chess until i finished
he would have Amanda keep refilling his mocha
until about the point when i just happened to be done
he was 'in love with me'
he finally told me one night in late July
but i knew he was just in love with my words
we use to make love for hours
and he would demand that i speak to him with the same softness
that i spoke to the kids at the coffee house with
we spent the entire summer that way
i was his star
he was my fan
and it was
pure perfection
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