She couldn't cease
to look back and forth
between her little black book
and me.
Until she put a sharp
halt
to her every movement and
locked eyes with me.
"Give it back, Faust"
I snorted, "Pff, you'll scare me to death with that kind of threat hunny."
chin up,
arms crossed,
narrowed eyes.
"I'm serious, Faust."
"Whoa," I said in between smirking lips, "no need to shoot, let's not get violent."
She was faking it,
I could see it right through her skin,
that immaculate sheet of glass,
too fragile to cover up her
innocence behind shields.
She shook her head
because she knew I wouldn't give in.
Her bow tie came loose,
god help me she was driving me
to the one place I was still scared of.
My extremes.
"Alright, Faust, what's the deal?" she said standing up. Settling her weight on her left hand, she rested her palm on the table.
I took one,
only one
little
step forward.
One,
only one
little
step closer.
"I want you to go out with me.
Would you do that for me, Chiara?"
My hand slid along the table. We were
face to face.
Mere centimetres
a w a y.
"Can't I just buy you coffee?" she mumbled, rolling her eyes.
Her skin beamed
under the store's cheap lights,
Her carved eyes gleamed
beneath the boulevard of reverie.
I neared my lips forward
to her ear, and in the
warmest,
smoothest,
voice, I breathed
"It wouldn't be as hot."
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoesiaI 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. ____________________...
