"Faust"
"that's not even a name"
"don't you like it?"
i could
almost
hear my heart
s h a t t e r i n g
"does it mean anything?"
doesn't it mean
anything
to you?
doesn't it
t o u c h
you
in the least?
"ah...yes. it stands for
'lucky'"
"hm...are you?"
"I'm unlucky 80% of the times"
"what about that 20% left?"
i bit my lip
and felt the heat rush
to my cheeks
"that's when i see you've arrived"
and with that said
she slid her chair away
from the table.
and rolled her eyes at me.
and huffed.
and left.
and that was the
longest
conversation
she had
ever held
with
me.
and i couldn't even ask about the previous day.
and i still didn't know her name.
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
