things get better

the very moment you give up

the very moment you out loud deny

that there’s even the slightest chance of seeing light

the very moment your heart says “no that’s it…no more.”

supposedly things get better

but until they do

all i can do is stare the hands down

as they tick away the time to supposedly: 

that unannounced moment when things will somehow magically become better

and i no longer will have to only suppose.


Fleeting Flirtation

 There is an art:

which each of us create

anew with each encounter,

whatever day.


…safely exhilarating…

…securely coy…

…furtive, fleeting, taboo…

though willingly innate.


silent observers swear by it:

the glance, the presence, the immense haughtiness.

innocent…yet charged with minute passion.


a glance met…

as a mask slides upon each player’s face:

a mute drama begins.


around each involvee a force field emerges:

actions of the other magnified,

leaving all else oblivious.


engaged in this duel of strangers two,

interest is feigned upon all else but the other,

so daringly they counter each other’s broach of space.


The untouched brush:


so close, so close…

to reach out and trace a finger upon….


yet moment by moment intimacy,

cannot purely connect them.


so there one and one,

stay each unknown:


to continue their glance

to continue their silent dance…