The only ones that matter to me.

The only ones that matter to me.
my lil dorks at SanJapan

Friday, April 27, 2012

Random Thoughts about a Girl I just met.

Last night while at a concert I met a beautiful woman who told me that she just found out she was cheated on and is heart broken. We spoke for only a few minuets about her situation, she was more in a rush too go over and confront the "bastard" I recommended that she stay level headed and do nothing that will get her arrested. She had a look on her face that said she could careless about reason or logic she was running off pure emotion and passion. After she stormed off with her friends in the direction of the "bastards" home I turned around and walked back in to the venue and enjoyed the rest of the show. All the while I kept thinking about this young woman's situation and the advise I gave her, Which led me to think of my self at that age. I would have done the same thing and the advise I would have given back then would surely get you arrested and likely leave the scene with a few cuts and bruises on face and knuckle's. On the other end of this story after giving such bad advise and coming across such a beautiful woman I would have been inspired to write a poem about the situation and how she is too perfect for such mistreatment. A poem that she would never read or hear and even if she did she would not have connected the perfect specimen my poem is describing as being her and she would be correct too do so. For the poem I would have written about the perfect woman I just met would not be of her but nothing more than a fictional character I concocted based on a few minuets of dialog, sad eyes, perfect smile, tears on her left cheek and the skyline as my back drop. If this poem was written she would not connect to the person for who it is intended cause she never existed anywhere but in my hopeless romantic imagination. After all those thoughts passed I was reminded of how much I miss writing poems for women that do not exist, just to give my self some hope that one day my poetry and the love and hope I place in them would find a home in anyone willing too hear them and except them as their own.