A Poem in Passing.

Yesterday, I went to a cafe to work, as usual. I wrote and reflected on how I want to be seen, how I want to be heard, what I have to offer. I was deep in my head but I did happen to notice a man nearby. He had smooth hazelnut skin, his hair piled atop his head in thick, knotted dreadlocks. He had rings on his fingers and gold in his ears. He caught me, even just from the periphery. I melted a little and then gathered myself. 

“No, Eve!” I muttered to myself. “You have NO time to have a crush, to busy to waste your energy on men...unless of course they are paying me well.”

 So, I return. I return to my thoughts, my goals, my planning. And I did a good job at keeping my focus because not once after that did I notice he was there, in fact as I was leaving I completely forgot that I had that momentary lapse, until I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked back and there he was. Smiling so sweetly I could feel my pussy swell with desire beneath the touch of his hand on my shoulder. And even more impressive was he just smiled and said “I want to give this to you.” And then he walked away. 

I was left a bit shaken, by his sexy voice, his kind face, his candor, and the fact that he just left. He left me standing there with a small poem in hand and at the end of the poem he scrawled across the bottom of the paper “you are a queen.”