“Boy Next Door”

I looked for you
when I rounded the bend
on our street.

I looked for you
when the sun was high
and the air filled with heat.

If it was raining out
I knew our paths
would surely not meet.

I thought I always
was the one
to notice you first.

I thought I always
tried to find the right words
only my voice was dried by thirst.

Probably, it was for the best
to stay on the sidewalk
as a girl, silent and cursed.

Then, one day walking
down our street
I noticed a flash of color.

Him going one way,
and I the other, neither of us stopped
except in the looks we gave each other.

I held your eyes,
and you held mine
until out of sight in that breath of summer.

After, I wondered
what it meant.

Me always looking to you
and then you seeing me.

Maybe you too thought words
weren’t the only way to speak.

©2020 Jai Lynn

This post “Boy Next Door” first appeared on Jai Lynn.

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“Pretty Girl”

Hey you,
with the long brown hair.
I see you around strutting
like you just don’t care.

Hey you,
with the mischievous eyes.
What are you plotting
stringing along all these guys?

Hey you,
with the laugh in your smile.
I was thinking I might
stick around for a while.

I got a feeling
that you know more
than you say. What’s all
the trickiness for
anyway?

Hey you,
staring my way.
Will you tell me
your secret today?

Photo by Christian Bowen on Unsplash

“The Lady In Black”

One, two,
three, four.
I count her steps
from the door.

It’s one of the days
she does appear,
so far and few
I have come to fear.

Five, six,
seven, eight.
She’s a predator
while we’re the bait.

Long dark hair,
shadows in her eyes,
that pretty smile
attracting all the guys.

Nine, ten,
eleven reasons why
we all choose to ignore
that sadness in her eye.

Everyone wants
what they never had.
She a good mystery,
riddling us bad.

Twelve, thirteen.
We all wish for this,
that she’d just pick one
of us to kiss.

But she never does.
While others wear white
she’s always in black
and braced for a fight.

The Lady in Black,
a prey turned predat-or,
her posture straight
an enticing, deadly lure.

Someone much too good
than the rest of us stands apart,
she deserves someone better
to heal her broken heart.

Photo by Jelle van Leest on Unsplash

"Trouble"

Once upon a time
when downfall was all
I’d known
he found me
and boy,
how I didn’t know.

Once upon a time,
another normal day,
a girl walked through the door
saying she needed
a place to stay.
How I wish I’d known.

He didn’t seem like much,
another face
I didn’t trust…
until the day I saw
all the little things
he did
that I never saw before.

Anything she could have been
and I doubted
she’d last long
until I saw her work
making everyone
fall in love
with a girl
they’d barely known.

Hard and fast
I fell
without a net
to catch
and then I met
his girlfriend
and happiness
didn’t last.

I tried to stop
my thoughts,
and it was easier
with my girl
but harder at times too.
When someone’s mouth
is on your own,
but another’s
is all that will do.

He’s right next to me
and I can feel
my heart beating fast,
my fingers are reaching out
and he’s all I want to grasp.

She is right next to me,
and though I’m not
looking at her,
I see her all the same
my fingers reaching out
because she’s just said my name.

Oh.
I knew you were
trouble
when you
walked into my life.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

“Question”

Sometimes,
she’ll ask
me
a question.

Then in return,
I’ll give
her
an answer.

Bundled
in a sweater
with purpose
puncturing her words,
I hear her smart
yet sassy
inquisition.

(She never lets me down.)

It’s those moments,
where my heart
beats a little
too
fast.
But still…
I try to keep
my distance
(and curiosity)
at bay
for what her next
question will be.

She brings up
the clouds,
the mist
the breeze
trying to get in
through my window.

And I want
to open the window
and feel the sun on my face
because it is just like
her smile.
(But instead
I bury my head,
back to the calls
flashing on my phone.)

Every time
I see
her
there’s so much
to do
I want her to leave
(and need her
to stay
to make this
dull gray light
stark sunshine bright.)

Sometimes
she’ll ask
me
a question

(Too close to the truth.)

And I
won’t answer
her
at all.

(And we both
know why.)

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

“Valentine’s Day”

Chocolate hearts,
sweet tarts,
honey dripping
off your lips.

Written out paper card,
walking down the boulevard
not knowing where
but happy all the same.

Red rose,
bantering prose
nothing can ever
compare to this.

Cuddly teddy bear,
my mind without care
as long as you
are next to me.

Love of my life,
your future wife
doesn’t need
all these things.

Only you
and me too
together
forevermore.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear

Photo by Alejandra Quiroz on Unsplash

“Answer”

Sometimes,
I’ll ask
you
a question.

Then in return,
you’ll give
me
an answer.

Fastened
in a business suit
with logic
licking your lips,
I hear your polite
professional
response.

(Good for you.)

And I notice,
disappointment
and relief
tying my hands
behind my back.
But still…
I’m curious
(and struck)
so I change
my tactics.

I bring up the sun,
the air,
the rain brushing
the windows
near your desk.

And you say,
“It’s been so
so busy.
There hasn’t
been time.”

You are either
so absorbed
in your papers
or so disinterested
in everything else
except
your phone.

Trying to get
you
to look
at me
is my favorite
game.

Because,
there have been
certain times,
when I know
I’ve gotten through
to you.

Sometimes
I’ll ask
you
a question.

And
you
won’t answer
me
at all.

(And we both know,
you heard me.)

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

Living Life #22 “Mirror”

The shards were scattered all over the floor.

Each edge was jagged, and unlike any of the others. Of course they would all be different. They all came from different experiences.

The shard closest was derived from the boy who pushed her into the sandbox when she was five, just because she had been born a girl and for no other reason more.

The one to the right was one of the bigger ones. It was from when she was seven and her father had left. She thought it had been her fault. It was not her fault.

All the way to the left was a tiny chip, nearly in the shape of a heart. Nearly. It was from the eighth grade when the boy she liked had tried to set her up with his best friend.

Then all the way in the back, that piece with the most uneven sides… the piece with the sharpest angles…. that was the one from her first job out of school when her boss had tried to sand her down. That boss hadn’t liked the bumps on her skin, the angle of her eyes, or the color of her hair. That boss had balked at the smile she wore to work every day no matter how many backhanded compliments and disguised insults were said to her face. That was the girl’s favorite piece. That was the piece that cut deepest from her skin and made her never look back or question who she was ever again.

All of these shards on the floor were an important piece of her soul. So the image left standing in the mirror, after it was fixed once again, was a smarter and stronger girl.

Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash