Thursday, July 28, 2016

Coney Island

I see you with him on the beach. He looks
   At you in your bikini. My heart cringes
At how your eyes open up like two books
   And let him read a heart that yearns and singes.
It’s a look that you never gave to me.
   I feel it stab up under my rib cage.
You’ll show him chapters I will never see.
   He’ll lick his fingers as he turns each page.
He reaches for you. You reach back. Hands touch.
   Then grab. Then squeeze, fingers warm and entangled.
A brief connection—really, not that much—
   Just enough to make me feel like I’m strangled.
      I know what’s next. Eyes and hands gave it motion.
      And that’s when I start walking towards the ocean.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

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