Fumbly

Tonight, I happen to stare reality in the face. The fact that there might just never be an “us”. How can it ever be possible that a man like you would ever have the slightest interest in me? From across the room I see your image, still perfect; your shadow, still light. From yards away, I hear your voice, still deep and calm and resonant; your presence, still clearly potent. All I am is Ms. Fumbly Fingers, Ms. Freak Out, Ms. Clueless, Ms. Ordinary. In the kind of world where my wishes transcend reality, I would bet what’s left of my hopeful heart on you. But really, who am I kidding? I can use “might” to soften my sentences and amplify my chances but wording adds to nothing. You won’t even know I’m writing about you. You won’t even know I see you. I wonder now if you know I’m interested. I wonder if wonder ever crossed your mind but you dismissed it ’cause it would be worth kidding if we ever happened. I’m going out, I need you out of this system which functions in shambles when you are around.

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