• Lonely Girl,  poetry,  writing

    Blink

    For a moment, I thought I caught something

    In the way you glanced over

    In the way you caught my eye as if in a sudden flash of recognition

    …at least I think you did

    Could I be wrong?

    I often am about such things… as lonely people can be on a snowy, despairing Sunday night

    I never learned to play this game

    Never got how strangers

    Collided

    Connected

    Slipping, sliding

    In between each other’s hearts

    Sharing silent secrets

    Only to later pass each other in the night

    As if it never happened

    As if lust didn’t matter

    I tilt my head to get a better view

    I watch as you slowly, deliberately, peel off your leather gloves

    One by one

    As if feigning a striptease

    Your naked hands

    Confess, possess

    Nothing

    But a small stack of books

    Chekhov, Jung, Stephen King

    Lovingly held

    Confidently held

    I swallow hard and restlessly flip a couple of pages in the gossip rag I’m reading

    Could I be in over my head?

    But then, you turn to take another look

    And my lashes flutter as if on cue

    I decide to decide

    That yes, you’ll do

    Who cares what books we have in common

    In the end

    It always comes down

    To the same dirty deed

    To the same… despondent need

    I take a sip of my green tea frappuccino-lite

    Licking my lips

    I push my breasts out, feeling foolish

    And a little bit crazy that I’m still doing this at thirty-eight

    I watch now

    As you fumble to pay

    For your creme cake, your pick of the day

    I break a cold shiver as it dawns on me

    That you might actually come this way

    And if you did

    What would I say?

    Suddenly I fear the worst

    But there you are anyway

    Scouring my face, searching for acquisition

    Or is it just a tumble that you’re looking for

    No, no,

    I don’t know you

    Your approach is that of a stranger

    Thundering,

    My heart takes a sharp dip

    Lunging low

    Circling my jagged pulse as if to find a place to hide

    Our eyes crush

    Bravely, I take in your assessment

    Of what I am – of what could be

    I hold my breath and count to ten

    You blink and walk away.