BeverleyDiane

Washington

Washington

 

There are those that feel more acutely

It is at times a painful curse, bitter sweet

Carried by those who do not fall often, but when do plummet

Those that vow not to settle 

Find alone is better than lonely as two. 

 

 

Until it hits

Something in those eyes that see you,

Not just a face, a body, but a quick and wild mind to celebrate

Not scorn nor shackle. A mirror to their own.

For once you welcome their gaze, radiate within it.

 

To take a leap and trust you

She who runs, to run toward and not away, 

To embrace the desire to share your space, invite them into a Peace few find with themselves

To be made brave by the recognition in this stranger.

 

I like you, you whisper

Yet your unchecked laughter carried upstairs to fall upon Crumpled sheets cannot mute the knowledge this is temporary.

A sadness seeps inside, lingering like his touch on your skin,

His smell that you wear

A price paid later in sweat slicked sheets and mascara tears. 

 

 

Feverish kisses in cars and moonlit flirtation,

You make a choice, to burn brief, burn hot.

Decide to dance,  

Reach across the table, close the distance

Match each flick of a lover\'s tongue, 

Each desperate joining headier than the last.

 

 

 

America, the land of opportunity

Home for the next three years, maybe four.

Nothing I can do, one week, 8 weeks absent

Nothing serious, just being honest

Because I really like you 

Not fair to you

 

But I like you.

A glass shatters

Muffling your flurried congratulations,

While you wonder if it was your heart you heard breaking

Or just fractured hope. 

 

You take comfort there is no deceit, no malice, and no distrust

They aren\'t leaving you, they pull you ever closer

The unspoken hangs between you, an echo

While beside you now lie only unread pages, a chipped cup Holding its ground though hairline cracks appear as only your lips Approach.

 

You wish them well in Washington,

Encourage despite the cost

Smile through unshed tears and lips that linger at the doorway

Both knowing it cannot be,

But wishing it were different.

 

Because you like one another. 

 

 

Beverley Sharp