Leaning against the bar
he was inches from my pulse
heat and cologne coming off him in waves

He was talking at me,
not to me
looking past me

toward the crowd of strangers

I would not have been so easy to disregard

If he had seen me pressing my fingernails into palms
If he could see my gnawed lower lip
If he could taste my need.

 


If he knew I was alive.

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