My Lesbian Love

A woman I felt more than fond of,
she didn’t like men.
Not in that way.

At the time, I thought
perhaps her mind might sway,
listening to the things I say,
the crazy things I talk about.

Maybe we’d become
more than friends.

I bought her a tie she liked as a gift,
hoping her thoughts about me,
these might shift.

Later on,
that same evening,
we rose up inside a tall building
in an elevator (a lift).

Lost in a maze of mirrored corridors,
finally, we picked a door.
Walked through, tentatively
into somebody else’s party!

On the open-plan top floor,
below the black night sky
we window-gazed,
out upon a universe of city lights.

And once comfortably seated,
I told her, I wanted more.

“More what?” She said to me.
A reasonable query in theory, I agree.

“Your orange hair,
that piercing stare,
this fashionable flair,
more of what’s inside there!”
I said, forward leaning,
making clear my meaning:
Her head.

Red hair.”
She corrected, with a glare.

“You realise I’m queer?”
“I do.” I said.
“In whatever way you choose to dress this,
you hide no fear?”
I shook my head freely
and most vigorously.

From cheap, hired glasses,
perfectly synchronised
we downed
our unknown benefactor’s white wine.

“It’s fine,
honestly, totally fine.”
I said, finding my tongue.
“You see, sexual relations,
in this area
I have not particularly shone.”

What followed,
a pregnant pause…
no accompanying applause.

Within the time available to me,
I scanned the room,
noting each well-dressed, smiling, arty,
party attendee.

“Who mentioned anything about sex?” She said,
lowering her stare to release wicked glee.

“Ah! No.” I said.
“That’s not what I meant –
that you and me
after a while we’d do it,
No.” I said, hesitantly.

“Good, okay, we have an understanding then.”
She said to my relief, my surprise,
and ate a canapé,
brushing the crumbs away,
tumbling, from her thighs.

Here.” She offered her hand,
which I took and she lightly squeezed.
“I may want to kiss you sometimes.”
She said, just as she kissed me.

“I trust with this, you will be okay?”
“Sure, that’s good.” I heard myself say.

“I may want a cuddle from you,” I said,
“once or twice or more each day.”

And so,
right there for real,
we’d sealed our own
special deal.

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