Journals

Oh man, what is this.

A corny thing received these days.

Stared at it while listened to It Might Be U by Stephen Bishop.

Had me a click on the hyperlink under your nick.

It brought me to the heaven.

Sshh… you heard that?

Qua?

Go figure, something beating fast.

Oh, that was my heart.

Silly, don’t tell anyone.

Only my black Apple and me knowing I was smiling.

And blushed.

It wasn’t because of the Body Shop’s cheek colour #12.

It was the photo that made me blushed.

So it brought me to the linked page.

Not the heaven, I revised.

Well, well, well, look at these unpolished red necks.

Sitting, standing around my white angel.

That somewhat sucks.

Your copins, huh?

Ahh…

Better saying hello to you the page owner.

Or better, I called you a hot greenhorn, or wallflower.

 

Last time you knocked the door.

Those eyes were seeking the girl with a long black hair.

Don’t stare at the floor!

Here she’s standing in front of you.

Yeah, just, well, in different colors.

She is still the same petite girl you know.

With, uhm, let say “particular accelerations”, I call it so.

Much growth than she can even realize.

So please come in and have a sit.

What?

Stop acting as though you just saw a Martian.

I like song Cosmic Girl by Jamiroquai, by the way.

In my head, I assume she must be a sexy Martian.

*nudges* Move a little bit closer as I’ll whisper you something;

So tell me, do you like a sexy Martian?

Look, those rouge silhouettes on your white lush cheeks.

Okay, I’ll stop teasing you.

So, yeah, I got actually something to show.

A black rose.

Used to be red.

Received from a boy who ran away,

after he was sure the rose was already in my hold.

On the V-day, trois years ago.

Look, you blushed again.

Your mama must be a beautiful Venusian.

Okay, listen…

Pardon angel, you ain’t on my hot-list.

Go back and ask me again next time.

By the time your wings perfectly grown.