Waiting II


I’ve been biding time with the crows and sparrows
While peacocks prance and strut upon the stage
If finding love is just a dance
Proximity and chance
You will excuse me if I skip the masquerade

She calls me, and calls me often. She talks to me about everything from mundane supermarket shopping to her most personal affairs. This guy that guy. That guy cute guy. The other guy that she wants to pry. The guy for whom she cries.

What does it say about someone if she feels completely comfortable with divulging her intimate details you, but more importantly, that she thinks you’d be interested in hearing all – and I mean all – of it? To be honest, I was interested, at least enough to listen to her talk about her life for hours, all the while I have to insert the occasional witty, humorous comment. But I think there’s a certain point in which I think it’s strange for her to tell me all these things. After all, I’ve only known her for a few months, and I went from being a stranger to a close friend.

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