Don’t be a bitch.
This woman is a human being.
not too much.
she definitely heard that.
(the elevator doors open as nervous elevator guy #2 enters stage left)
35 floors in this building and she chooses mine. shit.
Actions: Talk, experience a grueling 15 seconds of deafening silence.
I think i’m a masochist.
The emotion. The passion. The future. The potential feeling of unbounded joy from uttering a combination of morphemes in her direction.
They all multiply and begin to swell with in my brain as the pain of her perceived disappointment takes aim at my ego.
So I reach across the cavernous space that divides us to press for a different floor.
Revealing the moist circles of nervousness underneath my dress shirt.
Secretly hoping that she’ll brush against me..
of course she takes a step back. and then forward. then no longer existant.
then I travel upward 20 more seconds hoping she’ll at least think i’m important.
As my pores close up shop
The emotion. The passion. The future. The potential feeling of unbounded joy from uttering a combination of morphemes in her direction,
begins to leave my mind through my fingers.
I take the experience and chop it up into pieces,
getting rid of the stems and dirt,
and organize it hundreds of times.
creating lines of intelligence and wit,
devoid of shit.
carefully crafting the end rhyme
to show her and I that with time
I could make you mine.
Introducing myself once and once again.
Sweeping her off of her feet.
I write to relive an introduction an introverted man will never get to speak.