Karissa Satchwell Erotomania

Your shrugs are waves are shrugs are motions for me to move closer.

I know this because it must be true and because of the look of your face when you catch me looking. When will I catch you? I could be wrong. I can’t be. This shouldn’t be so secret, so confusing. But it is, it is. Lovely run your eyes down me.

I saw you walk by. You saw me see. A doe I became after your gaze flipped my stomach, squeezed my waist. I ran as if your eyes widened, gleamed, into headlights that would have shined through everything if I didn’t escape, leave.

You said ‘oh’ and I do not know what it means. Oh it means something. It means come here darling. It means lets tussle, fumble, undo the meanings said to people who aren’t you, who aren’t me. Lets make believe she never existed. Lets make believe this downpour is just a mist that washes away the empty places that you miss because I was not there, not in them. Lets pretend you never forgot, never will forget, all you promised you would give. You promised with your lips. They parted quick and the air between them fell between my fingertips.

The truck door slammed slowly, surely speaking to me in a language only left behind in the dust lining our meetings. They are fleeting for in the open no one can know. In the open you pass a hello in an invisible note. I see l-o-v-e spelled out in your shadow.