The Weekly Croissant: "Silhouettes"
A poem about seeing somebody in a different light
Silhouettes When I saw the outline of her body Frosting the cracks of the cement wall Breaking the light in that familiar way My chest cried out with recognition Her inverted self had no lipstick smeared on chapped and puckered lips, no cheese grater pockmarks across her insides, The scars of girlhood illusions, chipped away at by a woman’s pain. She was an infant Reborn in shadow As we all are when passing in front of bright light Our purest naivety projected in front of, or behind us Egging us on, manipulating Showing the way then reversing course, reprimanding, no! You’ve gone too far this time-- When I saw the outline of her body, I embraced her unfettered contrast with my own Watching the dark shapes come together Even as we stood, meters apart My arms outstretched in one-sided offering But she did not know that I had glimpsed her silhouette She did not see my gaze, Never felt my arms envelop her, In body, nor in shadow
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