Sun kissed skin, fragile hair
Like filigree; her eyes so innocent
Unseen yet deep, her speech
Shakes my knees;
Yet it’s all irrelevant; I can’t hear
Nor speak so mute I breathe
Shallow breaths; heartbeat
STOPS
Resurrected I leave, too inept to get
What her body language said;
Her words meant,
Or what those long lashes kept
Repeating; her petulant friends
Laughed; head down I walked
Still shining from a halo
Which I left, when I walked away
Leaving her a bottle of mixed emotions;
And my shoes rubber with no grip;
Gelatin wraps for knees
And a tongue twisted-
I untied it- warbling out of tune;
Stu-Stut-Stuttering towards a moon
Faced beauty- scratch that….
Moon has potholes but she
was perfect, like those
vintage porcelain dolls…
expensive, rare and cherished.