The armrest between us
feels dangerous.
Here I sit
separate
in my chair
safe
on my own.
The tension is thick
like the rim of your glasses
thick
like the lump in my throat.
I focus on not touching you
so much so, that I forget
about the no-man's land that is
the armrest.
Our fingers touch briefly.
It's an accident.
It's electric.
And our hands do a dance,
delicate and graceful.
A ballet of avoidance.
Ceasing movement,
content in our solitude,
A sigh of relief.
Of disappointment.
Then, a sudden attack.
You lace your fingers between my own
and gently squeeze my hand.
You don't look at me.
And I am grateful.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
The armrest between us
feels dangerous.
Here I sit
separate
in my chair
safe
on my own.
The tension is thick
like the rim of your glasses
thick
like the lump in my throat.
I focus on not touching you
so much so, that I forget
about the no-man's land that is
the armrest.
Our fingers touch briefly.
It's an accident.
It's electric.
And our hands do a dance,
delicate and graceful.
A ballet of avoidance.
Ceasing movement,
content in our solitude,
A sigh of relief.
Of disappointment.
Then, a sudden attack.
You lace your fingers between my own
and gently squeeze my hand.
You don't look at me.
And I am grateful.
