My Rich Girl

She walks with that breed of self-loathing confidence that I know all too well.
Her world of friendship and freedom was one that I had longed to dwell.
Long legs, very long legs.
Smooth tanned skin, except for the few pimples that gathered on her forehead.
Dirty blonde hair, like an ever growing field of golden grass with patches of lifeless dirt running thinly throughout.
Her facial expressions draw you in and drive you out at the same time.
She only ever laughs at the absurdity of life.
Green eyes, they show both her natural motherly tenderness and wicked rejection of the sacred ways of people back in the old country.
Her arms and legs are very muscular, the picture of athleticism.
She is very tall, I only have an inch on her.

Would I have said things differently if I had another chance?
I probably would've but that was the past.
I wish she would truly show me how she feels and take off her pale mask.

She always teases me for my blue pants.
I see her true colors now. Black and burgundy.
She pushes me into a nightmare every chance she gets.
I wish she would treat me fondly.
Terror floods me when I start to regret.
Fear can do little but cripple.
Saturday clouds were ran off by her glowing presence.
Embarrassment ripples through me like a tornado, killing the mojo.
How do I revive this life force? I don't know.

The good vibrations come and go. What I admired about her is different with every interaction. She doesn't quit for anything. I admire that.

I guess I'll find someone else, she's got a man now. Her friends say he isn't right for her and I can't help but agree. He is rough, arrogant, and against a lot of what she values. I guess that's what she wants. He's a "real man" as some say. Her friends say he'll abuse her, I sure hope not but I wish I could be the one for her. I guess I'll have to find someone who doesn't have anyone. Someone like her, smart and powerful. That'll be my girl.