Split wide open

Yes of course I'm inordinately fond of you.
And your dying to know why. Thats not really important though, is it?

And of course I'm a vastly (in?)dispensable source of amusement for you. One could presume even a lazy distant sort of affection sparked by an occasional stray thought or a clever line that arouses-
curiosity? surprise? respect? revulsion?

For someone not quite real,not quite true, not all there, yet not all square either.

Smile uncomfortably at the thought of that autumn leaf falling slowly,scorched orange, blistered by a bored sun which had nothing better to do.

Feel fabulous because the virgin dewdrops touched your naked feet,
and for a while your mind stopped dissecting-
their transparent torsos to the point where you yourself needed to scream.

Nothing is perfect. Especially not you.

Sometimes that beautiful mind shuts down and those sharp eyes cloud with doubt and that meticulous heartbeat loses its confident rhythm and races fruitlessly for shelter in a stormbound desert.

But me, what about me? Aren't I perfect?

Right down to that blue vein you couldn't see? And yet, you wouldn't let yourself believe that. Tch, tch tch.

Why?

No reason.

Perhaps because I am inordinately fond of you.
Or you fear that I'm not?

Will laugh myself to sleep now.