One tall drink of water on a hot Texas day,
Calm and cool with a smile on his face,
He tipped his hat and said “maam”.
Fair parched for days, she drunk him in with a languid gaze.
Constantly, a series of smilies ensued and words formed,
She with her blushes, he with his.
So much broad smiling and laughing her face was flushed a soft happy peach
While fingers flew with hearts fast beating
Constantly she opened further, caution to the wind
He stood there tall and lean in his virtuality, she stood poised in hers.
He asked and she answered in realizations without her preferred ruminations.
And the cowboy, cool and calm, hat tipped back, laughed.
She had no chance against that VR cowboy
With smiles like the sun reflecting an absence of color in the depths of sky blues eyes.
He had no chance against that girl in glasses and ink stained skin.
II. Little voice
Friday fades into a wine blushed haze as the little girl heart cries confusion and confession. Mouth pressing tight and warm into her bears, the words are small and deep. “This is some crazy fucked up shit.” And she lets go her control and opens up to vulnerability and allowance.
