Hidden I placed myself. With exposed legs and klunky boots I tucked myself in so as not to be on display for others. Who do you think you are. Alone here. Fashioned.
Pretending to be unleashed and untamed. If you can hide yourself with perpendicular paneling you'll feel safe.
Justified from the judging eyes and shame that pours out not from the onlooker passerby but the late arriver who is in fact the other.
Maybe I'll just disappear in this corner and then I'll be ok. I won't hurt another. Won't accidently "manipulate." Won't communicate it wrong.
The outline of you haunts me as I shuffle thru the evening events. Seated below, standing, bent, up the stairs, to my left draped over another. I saw your every positioning.
And I ached for you to ease close enough for eye contact. Yet I avoided it myself at all costs. I hate the beard. The hidden face. The avoiding glance.
The tangerine glow sticks to my view from inside my memory to my mind's eyes of present. Tormented I rallied the strength to tear down streets alone. Bundled yet cold and bent I began to break.
Heavy breathing and sucking in couldn't prevent the inevitable spilling of what was next. I gave in to it. I wept. But I also yearned.
Slayed by rejection I demanded in my mind for him to come to me. To rescue me from my shame and rejection just with the simple look of his face.
I let out internal screams and clenched my teeth so hard I could hear them.
Coughing and choking I knew I had to at some point recompose. But when?