You picked me out from a crowd of geniuses.

studyYou picked me out from a crowd of geniuses.

I really wish you hadn’t but you did. You overheard me loudly debating the merits of incarceration, huddled in a corner and discussing topics that shouldn’t be spoken about as frivolously as they were. Sipping wine out of a polystyrene cup and saying things I had no clue would spark anybody’s interest- I sparked yours.

Damn.

All it took was a handshake, a smile, and a strange smirk on your face as you casually tossed around words like “existentialism” as if they were simple concepts of the English language and I was hooked. You told me to be a writer, we discussed the colour imagery of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s prose and how books sometimes change our lives. For the first time in my life I’ve suddenly felt conscious of how little I know. For the first time in my life I’ve realised how precious knowledge is and how much I need to learn more about everything.

I want to spark your interest with everything I say.

You called me weird and then laughed like we’d just indulged in sharing a secret. I called you impressive and blushed like I’d just given myself away.

You made me feel utterly naked, I was not used to having conversations with poetry.

All I knew is how badly I wanted to have more.

We went out for drinks, it felt like more than that, it felt like a ceremony of wit and I reveled in every single syllable that you spoke. I was drunk on gin and sentences, I was seduced with vocabulary. We sat in a corner and huddled against the cold of human ignorance, all these people who thought very little and did so much- empty souls in a bar, trying to find some sort of love for the night, trying to find a place to call home for a couple of hours. I felt superior, like the fact that you made me feel smarter than anyone else meant I was some supreme human being.

You kissed me outside of a closed restaurant and I left a part of me behind in a puddle on the pavement. You held my waist and told me I was going to be a problem for you. I liked being the reason for your anguish, because it meant I was at least a piece of furniture in your complicated life, I was something you acknowledged.

Turns out I’m not the only thing you acknowledge. I figured it out after you drove away with my affection in your pocket and then told me I had to keep it a secret.

Of course.

Suddenly I stopped being Harriet, the girl who went out for drinks and was kissed by commas and caressed with adjectives, I became someone I’d sworn I would never let myself become. I became a secret.

She found out, you’ve obviously done this before. She found out and wasn’t upset with me because you’d put her in the same position 10 months before. You’re a serial philanderer, and you seem to have no problem with dragging dented women down with you.

Suddenly I don’t feel very smart. I was so intoxicated with what came out of your mouth I forgot to check how dead your eyes are, and how broken you must be to throw multiple sets of feelings around like that.

I think I picked you out from a crowd of nightmares.

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10 Comments

Filed under Brain Poetry

10 responses to “You picked me out from a crowd of geniuses.

  1. Seems I picked you out from a crowd of bloggers. I think I know your aunt -small world 🙂

    • That’s so great! Vandy? How did you figure out she is my aunt?

      • I’m not sure, I asked her that only recently, I’ve told her how much I like your writing. I think she must have said something or posted a link to your site. And sorry for the late reply, I thought you had removed the post as my link, which was to first edition, is now dead.

        I did love the first edition. I felt you beautifully captured the ‘dizzy dancing way you feel’. Of all your posts it is my favourite.

        Perfidious.

        A dreadful word, and dreadful world that needs such a word. I am so sorry it turned out that way. Please do keep seeking out those conversations with poetry though. For when they do work, they quickly wash away any toxic memories.

        And should you still wish to discuss incarceration, then I am happy to debate with you. The merits of incarceration you say… 🙂

  2. Holy shit! This was awesome. I hope this was fictional piece and not real

  3. It really wasn’t so awesome. Thank you though! I’ll try to write fictional tragedies from now on.

  4. Ouch! Damn girl–that post had bite. Those land sharks are the worst.
    Thanks for sharing.
    All the best moving forward Dandelion!

  5. Pingback: We were desperate, and we were triumphant. | Dalliance

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