21st Street

 

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She’s sure he didn’t mean to call her boring
He was probably joking, even.

Yet, as he turned away from her

And announced it

Loudly to the small audience of their friends,

She felt a little piece of herself  chip,

A small sensation she has come to recognize

As her feelings being hurt.

She sat there, hands clasped in her lap,

And waiting.

And waiting.

She hopes he will say something to her

Take notice, care.

Yet, all she want is to leave; she wants to cry.

She wants to cry.

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Late riser, insatiable foodie, lover of words

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