cinnamon

by chance she saw him
sitting a few chairs down
once acknowledged
she couldn’t pull her eyes away
palms sweating
heart pounding
he was there
right in her face
cinnamon dusted jaw
pale cheeks

as his head moved in her direction
she was caught staring
intent cornflower eyes
searched for recognition
she attempted to shake off
all the knowing looks
hesitant decision was made
as he moved out of his seat
made his way

the voice that spoke
had existed in her sleep
his hand was soft
fingertips rough
when he enveloped hers
as time grew
she tried to be aloof
an offer blurted
from his lips

as it went
their shoes crunching
the ground underneath
stolen glances
he reached out
pulled her into the alley
moved in
touched her face
his hand
ran through her hair
the back of her neck

nervously
her tongue ran across
petal pink lips
an invitation
he brought his
onto hers
lightly brushed against
her hands clutched
the sides of his shirt
feel the man underneath

he lost himself
strangers latching on
he could not
would not
break away
he gripped her with urgency
connecting her back
to the cool stone wall
this was enough
no words spoken
bodies told all

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Posted on October 4, 2010, in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I liked the concentration on their ‘touch’.
    It’s the most intimate of senses.

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