A series of gestures & looks
hidden between words in our composition books
As we study the opposite situation
We have the right page lifted in anticipation

The story is intriguing to be honest
We hang on to every letter as if written words couldn't lie.
When in fact,they make the lie permanent.
To be truthful, we speak in winks and flutters of the eye.

It is a language we never wanted to learn,
speaking in premonitions.
It frightens us like an unlucky number
A common and uncanny superstition

So we watch happiness from the corner
with an odd sociological perspective.
The trends we notice make us loners.
Lovers without an object of affection.

A breath of fresh air in a sea of fumes.
A burst of light in a world layered with darkness.
The hands at my throat are gone.
That choking,
That sinking,
The suffocation has ended.

Remarkably ineligible scribbles
like a doctor's short hand.
Every so often we peer over the edge of our hearts'
paper bound representation
and catch eachother's eye.

Its that moment.
When our gaze meets
we don't need to see to understand.
Actually, doing it in the dark is part of what makes it exciting.
In that moment
when our glance
makes our worlds collide
within our irises

you strip.
shedding off the plates of armor
hidden in your sweater dress and scarf
your thigh-high boots, arm-length bracelets
and the baggy beanie so elegantly
laid upon your head
Twirling proudly,
exposing every twist and turn,
every pothole and hill.
These roads I have yet to travel.
Still I can feel my chain mail unravel.
We stand there exposed.
A queen without a crown
and a king without a throne
and our kingdoms unite under the banner of white sheets
and blue lines that define our bodies, hearts and minds.

Its just a moment
then its  back to scribbling.
Smiling and snickering
and silence occasionally interrupted by
Trains & Sirens
Its better than ***.
Really, it is.
Just to know my muse is at the end of my nose.