Hopefully not. I wonder how if you know. You probably do.

Do you... enjoy the little 'secret'?

Gorgeous
Sweet
Mature
Open-minded
Smart
Witty
Funny

That's you.

Behind this little curtain, I hide.
I do not lie, but I do not tell the truth either.
I do not flash it in your face,
but I'm afraid you may know my

secret.

If this happens, everything will turn upside down
and I need to find a paper bag,
where I'll readily stuff my face in and hide under a rock
Until maybe all magically is forgotten.

I am ready to tell you the truth, however,
although my paper is transparent, a see-through glass,
piles of white lies may start to stain it and soon,
it will be so opaque you have to dig deep into there
To finally see the face that's hiding behind.

I am not desperate or a stalker,
or you know,
the one that sends you long text messages
and waits eagerly for a short reply.
Whenever I try to forget you,
you pop into my memory and tempt me into no bounds
of imagination. It's necessary I try not to follow,
but I always end up falling in the same hole.

So please understand, that if I suddenly reveal my identity,
do not be taken aback because this is what I have to do,
for you have caused me to be slightly obsessive and
longing for even a slight bit of communication between
us. The us that I dream of, the us that happened, what of it is left?

To start anew? This is rather painful. I don't want to forget, you see.
You were so lovely and sweet. How can I erase you from my memory?

People come and go, but you stay, longer than I thought you would.
This attachment is detrimental to my being. If any longer your existence influences me,
I will stop living in the present and reality and just dream on about non-existent parallels,
wasting so much time and feelings.

Okay. So this is why I'm being so secret there. You would only talk to me that way.

Because,

you wouldn't want to talk to me.

Thank you, dear, though, for that sweet little message.

I have hair that grow like wild weeds.
Fresh and untrimmed,
Right from the scalp of my soft head.

My eyebrows are thick, but not enough
To be as dark as
the pools of black my eyes are.

Huge lips,
give sweet kisses,
and blows them to you if you're my fancy.

Tall enough to hug you and smooch your little cheek.
Short enough not to see that I'm blinded by this blackening
of reality.

I always like quirky things
and be that rock that juts out of all unusual places,
looking like it doesn't belong but indeed, it does.

A special rock, a treasured rock,
one that all shall behold and hold their breath before.

I like to eat many things sweet, a kick of spicy
and some pieces of meat.

A person quite interested in the arts,
from painting to poetry to acting,
deemed herself worthy of being called
A writer.

Sometimes, this person can only see
What her feelings show.
Not the most important thing is at the top of her list,
A poor judgement girl, lost in love and full of sheer hope.

Too cheesy, eh?
Welcome to the cheesy part of my life
Which I hope to quickly pass
And shut the door behind me
So it won't catch up and haunt

I'm gonna hide behind the ******* stakes
and watch the fires ignite.
The slow and guaranteed burn of the wood
To turn it into blackened charcoal.

Be patient, the fires won't disappoint me.
They are truly loyal. Only they are the ones
I can count on
To get things done.

You grow and grow onto me
Spreading of the different planes of your existence,
Creating a slow, deepening hole
In which I keep falling deeper into.

Do you ever wonder
What to do when you're awake
When the sun hasn't seeped through
And brought the light of day?

Sit in front of the computer
and stare blankly
waiting for the Sun to rise
and the world to shine?

I am very bored
Waiting over here
And there's nothing I can do
but bear with the silence.