Chelsea

Chelsea

More beautiful to me than any other woman

But representing the ugliest of emotions:

 

- sadness

- anger

- frustration

- hate

 

No, I don't hate you, Chelsea; I hate that I love you.

For you will never love me...at least not the same way.

 

I may wish to take you out to dinner and a show, arriving at your door with a bouquet of roses and leaving you with the most passionate goodnight kiss...

But you're content to shoot the breeze with me over a cup of coffee and give me a hug goodbye.

 

I may wish to call you anytime I need some comfort and talk for hours on end...

But you're content to call me once a month, if that often, and talk for ten minutes, if that long.

 

I may think you look lovely in that outfit -- and wish I knew what you look like without it, what your body feels like without all those layers of clothing...

But you'll never let me find out.

 

Chelsea, you may think the solution is easy: find another woman.

 

But it's not that easy.

 

Other women are around me, and still others I've yet to meet

But I want you, Chelsea.

 

The one it will never happen with.

The one it will never work out with.

The one who's not the one, or even one of many.

 

So why do you have to be you?

Why can't you be who I want you to be?

Why can't you be...anyone but Chelsea?

 

Oh, no.

 

I've been wrong all along -- I don't love you, Chelsea.

I love who you could be...if only you weren't you.

Chelsea, you're right. The solution is easy:

 

Find

Another

Woman.