Turn

She walked into the room.

He was standing by the bar, surrounded by Pretty Blank faces,

And he saw her.

Only she could recognize that flicker in his hazel eyes

He turned to the window, spiked his hair, rolled up his sleeves, grinned at his reflection,
tightened his hold around one of the Pretty Blank faces,

She smiled.
He hadn’t changed a bit.

She sashayed past him, watching him out of the corner of her eye,

Watching him watch her.

He turned to the Pretty blank faces, let them run their hands over his ‘shirt’, kissed them, tipped booze down their lipsticked pouts, threw back his head and laughed,

She smiled.
He hadn’t changed a bit.

He sauntered past her, murmuring something about a refill to the Pretty Blank face closest to him.

She knew he was curious.

She also knew that she would be ignored, he would swagger right past her like ‘they’ had never happened.

And he did.

His tall lithe form pausing to fold a sleeve, something she used to love doing for him, as if to show off his tanned muscular form, to show her what she was missing out on.

She smiled.
He hadn’t changed a bit.

She gazed at the back of his shirt, blue and gold stripes, he didn’t look back,

Like the last time he walked away from her,

As if to show he didn’t care,

She didn’t matter anymore.

He didn’t look back.

She smiled.
He hadnt changed a bit.

If she smiled at him, would he come over and ‘talk’ to her?
If she touched him, would he burn?
If she kissed him now, would he kiss back?
If she fell, would he run?
If she died, would he cry?


She could counter his every move, evoke a reaction, rouse a response

She smiled.
He hadn’t changed a bit.

She had.