Writer

That wasn't even me who walked into the bookstore and hid in the shadows watching you
But you swear it was
You swear I could be that meek
I amuse you, as well you amuse me
Thinking you're hot stuff every time I come around
Worthy of my stalking
Worthy of a little creeping
But although I am intrigued
I know better than to want you
To trust, is to never know you
And you've made your fickle musings decoration on my wall
So I am not fooled, not this time
And yet....
....yet I beg to give you the benefit of the doubt one last time
Ignore what you're saying to me and concentrate on the movements of your skin against mine

And what is it puppet?
What would you tell me if you weren't so afraid?
Can I please have a little truth splattered on my pie
A little reality stirred in my tea
Tell me you love me, tell me you want only me
Tell me when I was with someone else
You cried over me

Am I just a fool in your latest story
About a gullible blonde
A joke by the water cooler
Or are you thinking of me right now as I pen these words of you
And what am I doing with you, when I only see horror
Because I want to be the girl in your story
I want to be the heroine
I want the readers to root for me
Just a little
Whistle my hero tune on their way to work
Wondering what ever became of the love interest
He could have had if he hadn't been so selfish

But this is just a fantasy, because I am too much reality
Me as real life, you as just a guy
Keeping his distance, because he takes the easy route
But she comes unexpected, and for once he is confused by his own script
The one I am in
The one he can't live without
Though he wants to
He wants to continue eating tacos
And sleeping alone
But I eat away at him
He must write again
Of the blonde heroine
With the blue eyes
Soft skin
Who speaks in riddles and quirks
Who waits patient
Who accepts his crazy
Because she sees the real him