personal poetry thursday...

no explanation.

and there she is
sitting across from me
feeling sexy, certain, silent
burgandy and bronze
wanting to be noticed
without wanting to be seen.

her skirt is full
and shadows are light
she listens to what you are saying
but doesn't hear,
not quite.

smiles are cordial
and vaguely polite.

answers are given
more ambiguous
than right.

and in her head
she is comparing herself
to songs.