Monday, August 30, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 4:44 PM /

Flirt thought

When I flirt, I float. On a kind of self-induced haze of affected splendour. Little things, little tugs, little heartstrings, and so much riding on them. When you wonder... when on earth you'll meet next, and you remember, all of that ended eons (!) ago, you wonder how on earth you ever had the courage to call it a day.

You are not the kind of person to wonder how on earth you got hitched onto the bandwagon all over again, because that kind of question is not asked by the kind of person you are.

Laugh then, and tilt your head forward, encircle a waist, and inch closer, rest your head on shoulders, watch a movie together, you're on celluloid all of a sudden and you may never get that chance again.

Share a bite together, and make a comment on how much you love the cooking, watch the eyelashes quiver (slightly!) and wonder how easily you could fall in love. What in God's name is holding you back, or have you already walked down that road, unknown even to yourself... ponder, ponder... thinking caps galore, and you can get them pairs, too: HIS and HERS, if you want to make her laugh.

When I flirt, I hope someone else floats with me. I don't want to seem sarcastic, nor manipulative, I don't want to make you twirl, nor dance, nor speak words you never would have. I want to feel light with you, and I want something from you, but I hope you get something from me too.

It's a game of dependency we play, on fairy-swings, tied with gossamer sheets and sprinkled blossoms, and whoever said we didn't? It's a dependency that clings to you, and I want it too.


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