Becoming The Muse

I wrote you a very long  letter on a midnight-blue themed writing pad sprinkled with stars using a scented gel ink pen I wrote my heart out and sealed it with a loving kiss….

It’s still in my dresser drawer I never posted it, because girls like you don’t do stuff like that you laugh and call it corny.

When girls like you laugh, everyone laughs, it’s so natural and cute how you are always in the center of the room regardless of where exactly you are standing and you don’t seem to notice the attention you draw, just like a butterfly unaware of its own beauty.

Girls like you date guys who are alpha males, who drive fancy cars who are always flush with cash to blow on you, your friends and your friends’s friends because you always roll as a clique. You say you like guys who are man enough to handle you because apparently you are a candle, too hot to be handled by just anybody.

Girls like you like Bad Boys Bad Boys Bad Boys. Boys who wear their arrogance like a T-shirt and treat people like dirt because they are the big dogs and have the muscles and tats to back to it up. Guys who blow smoke in your face and ask you if you have problem sport and when you try to walk away they grip your arm with a vice like grip until you apologise.

Girls like you only call guys like me when you need something, and then suddenly we are besties, for a second it feels good to be appreciated, the weakness in guys like us.  Remember that time you accidentally deleted an important project from your laptop, the laptop that I helped you buy because you didn’t know much about computers… How about when you showed up on my doorstep drunk as a skunk because you had had a fight with Mr. Bad Boy and lost your home keys at the club, so you couldn’t go to your place, I held your hair back while you cried and threw up into my favourite bucket and in the morning I found you a locksmith for your door and painkillers for the hangover.

Girls like you take guys like me for granted.

I always say to myself this is the last time I do you a favour because all you do is take but I was raised a gentleman, a little too goody goody, a little too polite…. even if you asked for flowers……,

I would pluck out petals from my own heart and hand them to you and watch you hand them over to your Mr. Bad Boy because you needed a thank you gift for the obviously expensive gift he gave you to apologise for the way he has been behaving, I can change he says.

You don’t even see me stitching my chest back from where I ripped out my heart to give to you and you trampled all over it and didn’t even look back.

When you finally discover your Mr.Bad Boy is an ugly duck boy who won’t change into a graceful swan; of which I tried to tell but maybe girls like you are like a moth and you like to burn, you don’t notice me even as I hug you and tell you that maybe your next boo will be Mr. Right, you cry and keep repeating that all men are the same, and then go and find the exact same guy in a different body……

Nice guys finish last they say.

And if one day you wake up and you are missing me it’s because I grew tired of chasing after you when to girls like you I am just a wallflower, I see these things and I understand…

~B