Witchful, Watchful

There she sits, always across

The room from me, distant

Enough that I can’t really tell

If she’s looking at me and smiling

Or if that wily smiling fetching

flirt is someone else’s to tackle,

for the moment. I gather, only

to disperse, my thoughts and fears.

Just so, her legs aren’t impossibly

Long; hair tousled in a fashionable way.

Smidge of ennui flickers on her face

I sigh; I rise to take her hand.

A dubious idea rather dismissed

ere I destroy her charmerie.

In my mind I blow her a kiss

her eyelashes acknowledge me softly.

Tote

Sometime this season

You'll stop the spiralling

Out of control. The

bristling'll cease.

You'll bless your breath

As it leaves your body,

and you heave 'self to

and fro quietly.

The colours are the

 kind that seep through

The folds they fall,

becoming you.

Drive about town;

a deserted look

Eyebrows that have

been abandoned.

Persisting sulk

Burl won't go away

Acquainting with

a gaggle of freaks.

Last and final call

Grab some empathy

Stuff it down your bra

Proceed to boarding.