A braver girl than I would launch a rocket to your lips
but instead I take honours in spectatorship,
awaiting deliverance in the corridors of shyness,
searching your face for clues that prove
that you dream of lying in some other woman’s arms.
A braver girl than I would not strangle her passion in rhetoric
but let it dance free, barefoot in the embers of desire.
instead I, Quixote style fight with adversity, proving beyond all doubt that a firmer self-esteem needs no hooks to hang itself upon.
A braver girl than I would risk rejection, laughing boldly in the face of unrequited attraction,
but not I,
I who seek in triplicate assurance that once unleashed, desire will never to be chained again to solitude or lace lures of opportunity be case into inky waters.