Just Polite

Ooh. Ooh. Steamed curls like a question mark. Above your untouched

espresso dark. You tilt your head just slightly left. And time forgets

to breathe its next. Your fingers tap a silent code. On porcelain,

a quiet road. I map the space between your eyes. Where all my

courage softly dies. The bass line hums beneath the floor. A heartbeat I

ignored before. Now every note begins to ache. For chances I refused to take.

You were the room and I was just the air. Present but never

really there. You wore the night like tailored grace. While I rehearsed