Again after half an hour I found you sitting opposite me. We were talking to everybody but to each other. You absolutely generate no feeling of love in me. No attraction or appeal of any sort. Nor are you a crush. Not even some passing fancy. Nor do I admire the way you think, or the way you speak, as is the way I analyze the other guys I come across. It is not that I miss you when you are not around. Nor would I die to talk to you.
But there is something about you. I admire you the way a man admires his woman. I love to look at you…that’s it. I want you to sit in front of me for hours, so that I can study the contours of you face, knit words out of the glow of your skin, write poems on your hawk eyes, nibble a bit of that extra large nose of yours. I want to sink my eyes into the pinkness of your lips. Analyze that toothy smile or should I call it a grin…. with all the brains I have.That grin looks so vulnerable, so nascent, when it envelopes your lips. I would look at the smooth flow of words from your mouth. Oh! I would almost drown myself, admiring the way God has made you. You are one object I admire, like I do admire very few things…But you could never generate any feeling in me, thankfully. It’s just your appearance that appeases my senses. My external senses…the eyes…that’s it. Hardly anything but the pleasure of having seen you, penetrates me….the heart is so indifferent to you…