Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Tom

On Saturdays
you would come visit me
while your girlfriend was at work
at the Homeless Shelter.
We would walk along the beach,
our hands barely touching,
like lips.
In class,
you would read your poems aloud,
your beautiful love poems
that pulsed with a heat
like no one else’s.
You would look up from the page,
your blue eyes blazing
lovely,
and you would stare at me
burn me,
melt me.
When you finished
we would both be red.
Breathless.
Wetness,
under me,
folding my legs
like a flamingo,
hiding my
pink, soft flesh.
Looking down,
avoiding you,
and your gaze.
No one in the room knew
your words
were about me.
I was your
Wild, Dark and Passion.
Now
I think of you
and of her,
the milky, soft spoken
plain girl,
who I called my friend,
and I wonder
if she shares your name.
I wonder
who you are writing about
now.