Prose Poem “To big for a napkin”

Damn, damn damn…… I hate it when a pen and paper evade me, a writer I might claim to be and yet I cannot keep track of my own thoughts. So I am writing this with a borrowed pen on the back of a hotel napkin, words track around the lipstick stain you left imprinted on my eyes and chest.
You are precisely nobody to me and yet the sight of you caught my breath and stole my stride, the heart shaped face. I close my eyes and see reflections burnt on retina, and I write to describe to myself all you were and all you meant in that heated glance across a hotel bar.
Hair as dark as craven thoughts and raven wings that frame espresso eyes, smile that promise autumn skies and early night and I am smitten in that first instant. You look towards a door across the floor and I swear under held breath but no one comes you are alone, I search your face a map of clues about the puzzle that is you.
I feel my feet descend to tiles and walk the half a hundred miles from bar to table where you sit, I think about the words I’ll say, how I will pay the coffee you have sipped with rose bud lips and then.
You left, and I stood bereft, lost in the confusion of traffic and pedestrians, a vision of perfection lost in a moment of hesitation.

-Dave Kavanagh

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