Adolesence

"Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger."  James Joyce

He noticed how she held her beauty ion her face, 
especially in her eyes, 
her mouth and her expression, 
perfectly framed, alluring, 
but he could never explain it that way.

What he wanted most of all was to touch warm flesh, 
to hold it against himself, 
to make the way he felt watching he walk last forever, 
or at least longer than the seconds of glancing at her in the hall. 

(exciting, enticing and terrifying all at once...) 

The space between longing and action, 
the space between actor and act, 
the space betwen wishes and fact. 

Her with her hair in the breeze, 
him, warching with eyes that blink intermittently, 
standing against the wall in his tight blue jeans, 
head all full of lyrics that match the scene so well, 
her long hair flying when she runs, 
and her snile set against the setting sun. 

Infatuation lingering on the edge of his thoughts, 
caving ion on his memories, 
played again and again, 
trying to sleep, 
with that rush of blood to his head. 

He could not begin to tell anyone, 
anything significant about her,
except that when her eyes met his, 
he wanted to run to her and then bring her to him. 

(hard as he thought he could not tell anyone who she really was or what she wanted to be...) 

He only knew how she walked, 
because he always walked behind her, 
and she always seemed to be somewhere else, 
ear buds and her head all full of music. 

Then came the slow realizations, 
building walls, 
changing visions, 
widening those spaces, 
between infatuation and reason, 
sending those realizations along wiry nuerons, 
messages that are only read slowly. 

The starry eyed stare becomes clouded, 
the world gets in the way, 
chnaging moods and feelings, 
and then, 
that rush of blood to the head, 
from a beating heart, 
slows down, 
and in irreversable moments, 
he realizes, 
he does not know her. 

T.S. Deary 
12/14 - 12/15/23