Melodic ticks
and in clandestine eyes shift to her gait,
to her stride…
one foot carefully placed in front of the other…
this sexy sultry sauntering walk.
One thigh loves on the other as her ankles flirt above her shoes.
Her hips sway drunkenly to the rhythmic rhapsody in her head.
He shoulders sit square,
Her neck resting proudly,
Cradling her head-
Boldly casting light on her hair…
in its natural splendor,
its natural grandeur,
its only true self,
in its only true light.
With her head tilted slightly,
Soft brown eyes staring intently,
High cheekbones standing at attention,
A smirk hinting at seduction,
Nose flaring,
Long lashing flapping,
Honey brown skin whispering,
chanting,
pleading
“Come… kiss me”.
She is who she is,
But who she is
Is not me.
But it is me,
It’s her me,
It’s the new me.
Who is she?
This “her”.
Where was she hiding?
She was just beneath the surface, just below the scalp.
Waiting to emerge,
Only she isn’t new-
She’s the past I never knew.
She’s the me that always was.
And so I watch
Melodic ticks
and in clandestine eyes shift to her gait,
to her stride…
one foot carefully placed in front of the other foot…
these sexy sultry sauntering steps.
And I hear the faint voice of a green friend snidely asking
“Are you supposed to be me?”
And the soft smile of an answer returns
“Pretenders only pretend for so long…”
Collect Her Thoughts... 