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I am Brandon Walsh, smelling of Tide with a lopsided grin.
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A chameleon by trade, I can be everything you need and all the things you hate in a blink of an eye.
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I was taught the difference between confidence and arrogance by someone that had no business falling prey to my charm. It is an easy thing to walk a tightrope without a safety net when you can summersault into nothing with your eyes closed.
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Devil horns prop up my halo these days and a smirk greets those that find too much amusement and cleverness when I honestly state, “I’m the nicest bad boy you will ever meet.”
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Why am I so apathetically poetic this night? Too many muses are vying to inspire and my taxed brain can’t keep up as I trace my fingers along a topographical map.
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“The eyes never lie” or so I’m told. Maybe, dear reader, this explains why I still hide behind my spectacles. My eyes don’t slide downward in an atypical male response to flesh, but to hide the things you can see encased behind my glasses.
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I smell of sin. The scent clings to me even as I pull the shirt from off my aching body.
What’s love got to do with it?
Why everything, my dear, every little thing.
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