Pink lipstick, an oversize sweater, and a voice that puts angels to shame.
From that first eye roll I knew I had to talk to her.
She rolls her eyes unconsciously a response, now.
Her eyes reach for her mind to escape the world.
She drops her head to her hands, ignoring the outside.
I wish I could tell her she’s beautiful.
I wish I could tell her she doesn’t deserve the pain,
I hope she knows just how perfect she is.
I hope she knows how cute it is the way she likes her pretzels,
Now, just as I am beginning to stare,
Just as I am beginning to see her,
She rolls her eyes.
She escapes to another world, and just for a moment I can see her-
Alive, and awake.
As her eyes roll back into her fantasy she smiles.
I do not know if she is smiling at the greener grass in her mind,
Or the boy before her, staring.
I tell myself it does not matter,
And we talk.
The entire conversation,
While actively listening,
I am staring at those lips, pink.
It’s not so much a desire to touch them to mine
As it is an admiration.
I think to myself how bold it is to wear such a bright colour,
And we talk.
I wish I could tell her she is beautiful.
I wish I could tell her that I love the way
Her oversize sweater leave her curves a mystery,
But somehow manages to perfectly accentuate her nature.
This beautiful creature before me,
Foreign, yet so familiar.
As I sit here listening,
Everything in the room is drowned by the sound of her voice,
As if God misplaced one of his angels and she is calling out for him to rescue her.
Perhaps, rolling her eyes is her way of connecting to him.
Perhaps, rolling her eyes is less escaping a cruel world, and more seeing it for the first time in its beauty.
Perhaps as I sit here listening, I am less learning to see her, and more learning to see the world.