It Depends on When He Sees Me for the First Time.

If he sees me when I am with people, he will think my cheeks must hurt all the time from smiling so much. He will wonder if my fingertips are worn down from touching people all the time. He will see all the different shapes my mouth make because it moves even when I am listening. He will see the way I put my hands on my lips when I think before I speak, as if words will escape without permission. He will see that my hands are small, and older than twenty-five, and he will know that they give firm handshakes, and that they are maps to an old soul. He will see my thoughts splash across my face and understand that my readability is a sign of sincerity. He will know that those thoughts are just drops and that inside me there’s an ocean. He will want to swim in that ocean.

If he sees me when I am alone, drawing hearts falling from trees like leaves, he will think of me as a girl from a sad song. He will wonder why the frown in the middle of my forehead is so deep. He will wonder who hurt me and gave me such hollow autumn eyes. He will think someone broke my heart and he will be jealous of that boy for getting so close. He will wonder what I look like when I smile. He will think of my notebooks like keys and wish his heart was a musical box that played my favourite song. He will wonder if I’m really looking at the horizon or something else that he cannot see. He will smile when I raise my chin and look down on him when I catch him looking at me. He will want to see my hair spread across his pillow like an auburn pien-mien. He will see the effort it takes sometimes just to stand up straight.

There are some things he will think no matter when he sees me for the first time. He will catch my  eyes bounce around the room as I play crosswords with constellations and create love stories about strangers’ kisses and observe how the ceiling looks like grated cheese. He will count  my rings and wonder how I collected them. He will want to hold my hand so I can stop fidgeting, and to let me know he’s with me, and because he wants to.

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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

20 thoughts on “It Depends on When He Sees Me for the First Time.”

  1. okay so I read this again (really liked it!). I feel this way too. But what I’ve learnt now is the power of sustenance- I need someone to continue being there. Someone who’ll continue to be fascinated by me, and I by him. Even after the fires have simmered to a slow flame.

    1. Thank you! (What’s your real name, dear? I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages!) I agree with what you say; I think I need it too. Your last two sentences are magic by the way.

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