Strange Wanting


Your lips parted to speak
drawing my own lips to slowly creep,
to part and expose my teeth
in a expectant smile. But suddenly
I notice your arm extended,
your hand in pose to greet
in your voice a pleasantry
“It’s so nice to meet…”
as clearly you do not remember me.

Blood rushes to my cheeks
as my memory has not failed me.
I “know” you, at least recall meeting.
Yet I am a stranger to this Adonis
who many times before has met me.
I should excuse it; we met in a crowd.
I had hoped that I somehow stood out.

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