I named her Africa #Wattys2015

[twenty three]

The glass windows trembled behind us
as I banged the door to the cafe shut tight.
I risked an apologetic wave to my boss
but he answered with a sharp gaze and
a flexed jaw.

"I'm not."
She shot as the wind
slammed against her.

Her short flecks of hair
tousled
and a few strands
tucked
at her nude lipstick.

The deep purple knitted sweater she
had on was dishevelled
and she held to this
tentative stare that searched an answer
within my eyes.

My fingers tugged
at the sleeves
of my navy blue sweatshirt
and my wrists
flamed in ardor.

Her back s h u d d e r ed
as she crashed the cafe's brick walls.
My head t h r o b b e d
in yearning to cradle her in my arms

so I darted in front of her
and
c a p t u r ed her
by placing one hand on each side
of the wall.

A low whimper
escaped her lips
as she clung
further
to the bricks.

Her chest
swelled

and

sank
repeatedly

and her warmth breath
assaulted my mind.

Overwhelmed, she s l i d
downwards and wrapped her arms
around her knees.

Taken aback by the
coolness
of her absence,
I squatted down,
arching my back.

"Why not go out with me?"
I murmured,
nuzzling my sleeves in between her hair,
my elbows on her shoulders.

She reached out and
tugged
at my cuffs,
pulling them away,
but her fingers pulsed
and her eyes ached.

"Chiara..." I whined,
tilting my head to look in her eyes.
My torso was damp with sweat
and the wind rustled the few
short curls in my hair.

I couldn't get a hint on her thoughts.
Her jaw clenched and relaxed,
and she emitted low groans
at the back of her throat.
She seemed to be battling her cravings.
And I had no clue as to why.

"I'm not going out with you. I- I can't."

And with that, she
jolted
upwards,
sirens blasting
through her
moss green eyes.

And I,
being in a trance
deep down by the ocean floor,

I let her go.