Bittersweet
by Joseph Veronneau
As the videos played,
I glanced over
at her with the definitive need
speeding up my lungs: I needed
her glance, her gaze,
but she could barely look at me,
her nervous demeanor drenched
anything from happening.
I put it poetically
let me touch your hair
and I did because you let me,
I didn’t want to intrude.
I was melting there beside you
on that couch,
knowing that we’d never be a pair
but I knew that,
I wanted the moment,
I needed to hear your ecstasy
for my inner trembling,
I needed the feeling to subside.
Unfortunately, it didn’t come until later
that evening, in my own hand,
but with your perfume scent
blazing my shirt.