An Eye For An Eye........

........Liking someone more than they like you is such a tough feeling to navigate. Most crash before the driving ever takes place. It's an Emotional Battle with Balance. You fiend for them to miss you the way you miss them, even if it's only been a few seconds, minutes, or hours elapsed between the time you last spoke with them. You fiend for them to get lost in that same space you've gotten lost in, where day dreams of sentimental scenes starring them are dreamed. You desire them to desire the same desires as you do and more. You kiss the back of your hand simulating a kiss between your lips, and you hope they simulate the same kiss you've kissed. First and last to text, you wish for the wins to be neck and neck, both beating one another to the punch evenly. The climax you reach for putting smiles on their face, you hope they lust the same kind of orgasmic. The Proactive-Premeditated Effort you put toward their Happiness you crave they're just as calculated. It's not about an eye for and eye, but it's an eye for an eye. Hand to hand, you practice clutching your fingers together so that you're familiar with the expression "As One" when you're fingers finally meets theirs, and you wish for your dedication to be a dedication they're just as dedicated to. Head resting on hands palm to palm, you pray to Jehovah, Jesus, or Allah and beg that one of them is listening, so that the message reaches them, "Her" clearly. Liking someone more than they like you is such a tough feeling to navigate.

Vegas, The Sin In Her City......

....Got lost in the steam of it all, didn't realize it was just the fog being a fraud. She spoke razor and made him dream of it all, dank in his vein, leaving him to fiend for Her call. The sin in Her city he wanted to be Her Vegas, but She seemed apprehensive, too scared to bet on him, or maybe he wasn't worth the gamble to Her, or maybe She just wasn't a gambler. The dealer She is though so the decks in Her hands, it always is, and he's just a number seated in place, waiting to be dealt with, tapped on the shoulder and Knighted. Got lost in the steam of it all, didn't realize it was just the fog being a fraud though.

"And Why?"

It sucks when you're forced to not think about the person that makes your world spin round and round until your punch-drunk-dizzy with foolish Love. Birthdays and holidays important to them are erased from the notepads of chivalry and the discreet sheets of a damsels diary. A once long and lengthy to do list full of charming and caring errands are now crossed out...
And not because you're purposely neglecting what's meaningful to them, but because it's what you need to do in order to get over them. I mean, Less than a yard stick away across a quaint little dinner table made special for two. Lit with illume candles, pineapple-plum scented which makes the evening even sweeter....An intoxicated host "the crystal carafe" also known as "the functioning drunk" or "the panty key" stands tall decorating the center piece with it's belly less than half full (because the thirst of lust makes the two of you so parched that you become instant lush) of a perfectly aged, cellar temperature wine. Gourmet food prepared by some top chef lays pretty like a model relaxing on a foreign beach, but its sand is fine china... hand crafted and tagged with the neat signature of the dreamer who built the dream that holds the seat up underneath your cheeks. A grateful date who is not afraid to spend your time and enjoy it...sits with: Honest eyes focused only on seeing the possibilities of how in Love the two of you could be; Pure Patience for your growth like a botanist raising a rare plant; and amazing attention to your unique detail like some crazed OCD patient. Yet all we do is think about you....And why?