Hello Poetry
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She lines herself before me, eyes halting her gait like a rod rid of bait Trotting her feet again in my way, not perturbed or frightened by me The churning distress tongues speak about us on the whiteboard each week Is finally bringing us together, her delicate neck craned cock-eyed Tip-toe though your feet are crashing, and all pretense of slicing your eyes at me is mashing But I play her game and look up at the ceiling, red blouse she's got on like honey Her body pours over, spilling a little as her foot twitches too far and she jabs my leg accidentally hard I'm forced to look over, that cunning smile done up like hair, you I meet her, she smiles, she apologises, I smile and nod, saying it's ok, because it is for a while But when she glides on by I'm angry that her mistake wasn't falling into my useful lap Like wardrums, that sound, footsteps echoing deep bass-like from the ground And soaking my skin in flannel bravery and horror at what I can see Her walking away from me, until next week, the dancing meek kittens Ashamed to make mouths say what eyes can only guess at 'Hello, how are you, would you like to know my name?' 'Not really for I learnt it long ago, but tell me just the same'
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Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 3:01 PM UTC
Glances in the Lecture Halls
She lines herself before me, eyes halting her gait like a rod rid of bait Trotting her feet again in my way, not perturbed or frightened by me The churning distress tongues speak about us on the whiteboard each week Is finally bringing us together, her delicate neck craned cock-eyed Tip-toe though your feet are crashing, and all pretense of slicing your eyes at me is mashing But I play her game and look up at the ceiling, red blouse she's got on like honey Her body pours over, spilling a little as her foot twitches too far and she jabs my leg accidentally hard I'm forced to look over, that cunning smile done up like hair, you I meet her, she smiles, she apologises, I smile and nod, saying it's ok, because it is for a while But when she glides on by I'm angry that her mistake wasn't falling into my useful lap Like wardrums, that sound, footsteps echoing deep bass-like from the ground And soaking my skin in flannel bravery and horror at what I can see Her walking away from me, until next week, the dancing meek kittens Ashamed to make mouths say what eyes can only guess at 'Hello, how are you, would you like to know my name?' 'Not really for I learnt it long ago, but tell me just the same'
glances in the lecture halls
Porto-graffiti
Written by
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 3:01 PM UTC
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