Monday, February 6, 2012

a boy in black

I saw you sitting there, alone
on that seat by the window.
The darkness of the night, a black hole behind you.
The boat swayed on the water, moved by the wind.

I made excuses to come downstairs, to look your way.
Down the stairs I'd lightly trip, holding fast to the rail.
Reaching the bottom, meeting a wall, a doorway to the left, another to the right.
The left way, I knew, would lead to you, and so left-ly I would turn.
Stepping across the door frame, careful not to stumble, I'd peek out and see you there,
at the far end.

Sometimes it seemed, maybe you were looking back at me.
Embarrassed to be caught, I'd shrink back up the stairs.
Later though, a Shirley Temple, maybe two, would bring me back.
I'd speak loud words I was sure you'd hear and perhaps notice me standing there.
I'd stand in such a way that I could sneak my eyes right past their faces and catch a glimpse of you behind them.

There you sat
so relaxed
so content to be alone.
Cup in hand,
a vision in black.
And in that moment I thought,
you looked so lovely
sitting there alone.

How I wished I could look like that, just like that
so content to be alone.
Your eyes not pleading desperately for any kind of company,
comfortable on your own.

O, I wished I could look like that,
so serene, so peaceful
so content to be alone.

I felt a stab of jealousy, suddenly envying that empty space beside you, 
that nothingness that you seemed to treasure.
I admired you.
I resented you.
You, the one who was so content to be alone,
while I stood, not far from you, so hurt and vexed
wishing I weren't on my own.

Wishing I were with you.

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