Tap, tap, tap
Went her fingernails on the table.
Tick, tick, tick
The clock hummed.
"Hello class,"
said the heavenly voice.
She stopped tapping, pausing to lift her hand to her rosy cheeks.
Her eyes were deadly slits, calculating, outlined with long wispy lashes.
He wasn't much older than her.
Twelve years - not hard to lure.
His hair midnight black.
Thick strands, enveloping his ears.
She wished she could run her hands through it.
His eyes glistened in the day light.
Emerald green, like crystals in a treasure chest.
His skin was olive in colour, and flawlessly smooth.
His hands calloused and manly
With neatly trimmed nails
His shirt rolled up at his elbows, revealing strong veiny arms.
Nose as straight as the ruler on her desk.
Lips full and a dark pink, held in a straight line.
She wanted to trace her finger across his beautiful features.
When he spoke, she heard music.
A deep, deep melody.
He spoke English so well.
Nobody could tell he was Italian.
Perfection, she thought.
No ring on either hand,
She just knew he wasn't tied up.
But would he ever feel for her what she feels for him?
Right then, his green eyes looked into her own plain brown ones,
enveloping her with shame and disdain.
He could never. He would never.
It was a rope some forty feet off the ground she'd walk in heels.
How likely would she be to fall?
YOU ARE READING
s̶i̶l̶e̶n̶c̶e̶d̶, spoken © | ✔️
PoetryCopyright © All rights reserved. By Kingsley Summer. ~ Don't you just wish our world was filled with more honest beings? Honesty is something more or less of us lack. We freely speak the words in our minds, but aloud we are silent. There seems to be...
