A rippling glance
comes before a smirk,

my face had carved
well worn grooves
for all the knowing ones

I flashed your way, pregnant
with bright-eyed
amusement.

They meant,
I love you.

With her
my eyes do not ripple
yet my face
slides comfortably
into that same smirk

the roil of my waters
no calmer, just different.

I have learned not
to love so easy,
something brews
nonetheless.