I look up as
my tank top
hits the floor,
hand pausing on
the zipper of my jeans.
My eyes flash up
to meet yours
and I notice they have
flecks of golden
fear in them.
Aww shit.
I really need
to practice
my people skills.
I feel my cheeks flush
as red as my hair.
I'm not that kind of girl.
Not that you would be able to tell
based on the lack
of clothes I'm wearing.
"I come in peace."
I too raise my hands slightly,
then think better of it,
my bra shifting.
I look around
there is not much here to steal
even if I wanted to.
Just a clutter of
cans, tarps and
canvases.
"So, you're a painter too?"
I know I should be moving,
I should be out the door
before Mr. Singer's
smoke break ends.
I lean over to grab my shirt off
the floor and am stopped
by a familiar
pair of green eyes.
Now it's my mouth
that's open wide
in surprise.
DU LIEST GERADE
Something Unheard
PoetryYou’ll be the muse for my art and I’m sure that your clumsiness will inspire everything I do. Novel in verse. Unfinished #2 Co-written by s.m. brooks and n.m. w. 2015.
