on letting it go

You may feel alone when you're falling asleep, And everytime tears float down your cheeks, But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet, Someday you will be loved.- Death Cab for Cutie (Someday you will be loved)
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You have an interesting taste in guys,

I glance up and the daring boy with grey eyes who on too many occasions has seen into my heart smiles as he pours another beer.

I want to tell him there's too much head, but I suspect he'd say I was avoiding the answer, and chalk it up as a victorious observation.

I never like to give him the satisfaction, and I'm not even sure I heard him right-

Excuse me?

I say the words more as if I'm trying to grasp what he said and less that I didn't hear.

He repeats himself:

You have an interesting taste in guys.

I don't know what you're talking about,

I fiddle with the pen in my hand as I force myself not to let my gaze rest on the subject of his objection to my taste.

Don't you?

There's a tease in his voice; a dare for me to accept his challenging tone, to take him on and defend what he thinks is true.

But I don't really want to, and as he looks behind me to a table I don't turn around.

Maybe diverting the subject is that way to go-

Well, what does that say about you?

I didn't say bad taste, just interesting.

a laugh in his voice, as he smiles at me, easy going.

I don't like anyone right now.

I say it as firmly as possible- maybe trying to convince myself, too.

I don't believe you.

He says it in such a way I'm surprised.

Well I don't.

I walk away.

on liking girls, and liking me

The perfect words never crossed my mind, because there was nothing in there but you.- Snow Patrol (Signal Fire)
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He's the kind of guy that likes girls,

I say as I tilt my head to the side, picturing and appreciating in my mind how I've finally come to understand this.

He likes you,

a friend argues.

And while maybe a little bit of me wishes that was true, the truth is, it's not.

He appreciates women. It has nothing to do with liking him- he just likes the idea of them.

Still, the best compliment I ever got was indirectly from him, when he told a friend I have the prettiest face he'd ever seen.

I'm hooked and I don't even like him,

and he doesn't even like me.

on a tango

you make me sick, I want you and i'm hating it, got me lit like a candle stick, get too hot when you touch the tip, I'm feelin it, I gotta get a grip- Pink (you make me sick)
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It's a tango.

I glance to the side, looking at him, watching him interact. Appreciating his ease with people.

I shake my head, I've already been through this-

It's not worth my time.

I stand on tip toes- reaching out straining to clean that farthest edge from me. Cursing my half filipino heritage that's damned me to be short- I feel eyes on my back.

I turn- he's looking.

He smiles, and I avert my eyes.

It's so hard,

sometimes.