I am not thinking of you with your shape shifter greenish greyish eyes.
I am not thinking about your hank of hair as it falls over one eye.
I am not thinking about your masculine feminine
somewhere in the cosmos walk.
You stuck your thorn in me and now I have to wait until this weekend
(maybe possibly)
for you to pull it out.
What are you?
Note from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle Finder: Haven’t we all met someone like this? They are the sprites, wood nymphs, and Peter Pans who enter our lives and change them forever. Comment with a smile if you know someone who fits that description.
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