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…Strip me…

Strip me…

…of all the vanity that governs my morning routine

The need to pick at my face

judge my nose

scrutinize my lines around my eyes

and the fear of getting old.

Strip me…

…of the need to please

the fear that someone out there

remembers that time when I was less than kind

will weaponize my discourtesy against me.

Strip me…

Peel me…

Unwrap me…

Leave me bare…

Remove every ill you have found there.

I wish to be a ball of light.

Raw energy and power.

Searing eyes, burning skin.

Leaving scars of memories and wonder.

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…hazel eyes…

Ooh chile! Dey say red man is d devil!

But the calming spirit of this one seemed aspirational.

Jiminy Cricket personified as a new mutual friend,

Hovered over his shoulder cheering on our conversation.

I listened intently, well not really, as I tried to ascertain my interest in him.

He spoke about his work, his admiration for his boss,

I smiled big, flipped my wig and nodded along “yes, of course”.

Glanced at my drink, his hands fidgeted with his,

He smiled, so did his hazel eyes.

Minutes passed, close to an hour,

We spoke about everything, except each other.

He knew I was a mother and how much I adored my daughter,

I knew he was introverted and how he despised parang-soca.

As the time and conversation progressed,

I hoped he would escort me to my address.

I waited for an offer,

I waited for a number,

I waited for evidence of interest besides the past hour.

Instead, with one hand around my waist, we said our goodbyes,

A kiss to my temple, good bye hazel eyes.