Never Statements, Only Signs

I'm reduced to tricks that psychics use,
To palms and tea leaves almost, as I
Try to fathom where I am, and how
She feels, and what we are. I search
Her face, a dicey task, as my eyes,
When they fix on hers, somehow
Disturb my inner ears, and I begin
To lose my balance, sway and
Stumble as I read what she can't
Say. Sometimes, I see such warmth
In them, and understand that, for
That moment, she is unafraid, and
Wholly happy that I've come to
Her. Sometimes, I only see the
Fear, two fears at once, it seems
To me: she cannot have me seen
With her, but dares not tell me
I should go, as I might not
Return. Her eyes then dart.
She cannot speak. The lips I
Want to put to mine are pressed
Into a doleful smile. I leave, palms
Traced, and tea leaves sifted, sad
And overcome by doubt. Did
I misunderstand the signs?
Would she prefer I stay away?
I watch her later, as she passes,
My eyes having gotten dull.
She smiles weakly once again.
“I'm sorry.” Is that what she's
Saying? “Don't give up on me.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 93 times
Written on 2016-01-19 at 13:30

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