i like to read the shortest love notes.

i wonder if i'll ever get to feel the things they say.

or if anyone could write one for me.

its worn to want sonnets, or poems, or letters,

everyone wants effort.

but i have so little knowledge of love.

and sometimes i wonder if i am past an age where it is sweet, naive.

a coddled, spoiled, beautiful thin princess in an arranged marrige with a prince she learns to love.

am i just alone and odd, alone and strange.

a spinstering grown child with a fat face and muddy eyes. 

im scared that my red blushing cheeks arent cute. 

arent submissive, or charming.

theyre ruddy, and weather worn.

im always afraid of my smile and what happens to those who catch a glimpse. 

i think people are more beautiful when they smile.