It's funny how one kiss can spark a revolution in your mind. Eyes like pits, like midnight looking back... revealing nothing. I wonder why I fall for the people I do. Dark hair, glasses hiding dark eyes. Something about the face telling me that there's something lurking under that scraggy visage. It could be nothing. They could be hiding the fact that they're a little smarter or a little dumber than everyone around them. Maybe some kinky mind game or nerdy affinity that they won't show to just anyone. It doesn't really matter. The air of inscrutability is all I need to hook me. I'd much rather fall for a stereotype. Why can't I just harbor secret lust for some cookie-cutter butch girl who lays all of her cards on the table with a smirk? Not that they're not delicious, but it's the ones that I can't quite figure out that get me. The ones with the mussed hair and pile of books at their table. The ones who talks to me like she's reading from some obscure script and changes subjects without warning. The ones who goad me to keep up with them instead of walking beside me. And yet that same sense of mystery that attracts me keeps me at arms lenghth, makes me feel unworthy of whatever secret treasures they're hoarding behind their eyes.
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