She may or may not know of my long held affection for her. We by chance met at a party, the type that finds the inebriated either amorously engaged or shunning beds for the deep conversations that 4am somehow affords. But she begged me to find her a cigarette in such a surreptitiously forward way that it’s highly likely. I found myself shirking my shyness and asking around, then learning what brand she preferred to be sure that next time I’d have what she needed. It didn’t dawn on me until the next morning, that I was so pathetic as to try to and win her favor her by remembering a fucking brand of cigarettes, than making an advance, however innocent the flirtation.
We went inside and parted, but as the revelry crescendoed she found her way to my decidedly lonesome corner. We both love brown eyes we found, would die for them we insisted. And as I looked into the deep umber of her irises, and endlessly extolled the hue, I hated that mine were green.
We settled out front. The entire party danced inside, and we sat on the porch, at a wrought iron table that would be just as appropriately placed at a cafe. Conceding the deepest of love for another, she read me a poem, about the object of her affection, and disparaged the uncertainty of the situation. We spent a good two hours talking about life and love, and deliciously sexual things that made me wish I was the type of person to try and have a one night stand with a woman. Instead I’m the type to laud a muse, and in the same breath reassure her and tell her to take a chance with a person that isn’t me, will never be me.
I suppose when we walked to her car she didn’t notice how I intentionally bumped her shoulder, or understand the implication when I said anyone who’d ever turned her down needed to be chided. We parted with the kind of grand embrace that so easily can mean so little to one, and the world to another.
I hate that anyone else can hold my attention when I know they aren’t you; it’s laughable how far she is from what I want. She lacks all that that will soon come to delight me, but when she left I nearly wept because she, over the course of the night, had delicately traced the outline of you, and all I want with you. I’m not asking for haste, we shall meet in due time, but oh how