As she walks into my room, I can’t help
but see an oddity, a limp, in her
smile.
Off come her earrings, insecurities;
to the floor fall my shades, pretenses. I
stare.
My desk lamp brightens our humanity.
Under the light and four watchful eyes we
unravel.
My hands don’t tremble, hers don’t hesitate.
She sees my tattoos; I see her scars. We
laugh
Nate Stein
I have a degree in economics and a sense of adventure. Right now, I live in Shanghai where I spend my days pretending I am an author and my nights pretending I am not a kindergarten teacher. My personal website is http://natestein.wordpress.com
vivid snapshot, I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment.
Not a limp smile, but “a limp in her smile”.
Genius!
I love this poem,it is beautiful.
Amazing poetry, you need to pretense that you’re an author. ‘Under the light and four watchful eyes we unravel’ is the best line in a poem i have read in a while.