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