Various Works

From Wanting to Taking

I want you, but I have no right to take you.

You have the appeal of the forbidden fruit, but the personality of someone that breathes stale air. 

He looks down at me, his sunglasses covering his eyes. How I adore those eyes. He mumbles something about how he hates books, hates people who read books. I rip open my book bag and display it's contents: 

5 books, assorted works of poetry and fiction. Countless composition books for when inspiration strikes and I must, simply must scribble it down. Finally a three ring binder, mostly for appearances only. I attend school because I must, if it were up to me I'd spend every waking hour of my day reading books and writing in my room.

He snorts, shakes his head, taking on the mannerisms of a frisky horse. His black mane flies about his cherub face, his expression is mock disgust. But beneath it, intrigue. 

"You do realize that books are all I am, don't you", I offer him a small, fleeting smile. I pull the zippers closed and throw the heavy bag over my shoulder, staggering momentarily under it's weight. 

"Yes, but you are different. You actually understand", he says to me as if this were perfectly obvious to toads. Well, I wasn't a toad, so I didn't quite catch on to his point.

"Understand, what do I understand, Mitch?"

He kicks a scuffed up boot against a table, contemplating how to respond. He could choose sarcasm, a joke, or honestly. My bet is on the sarcasm. Mitch hates being up front about anything, he'll tiptoe around things just to see if you can keep up with him.

"Life. You understand about life." 

I'm shocked into silence. For the first time since I've known him, he was direct, honest and simple. 

I have no idea how to respond…