I remember seeing you in that dress. I crossed the dance floor just to see if you could be that beautiful. It was one of those skirts from the 40s, where you can only walk high heel to toe. So out of place, and you so perfect in it. It fit your body like it was caressed onto you by a dozen admirers. And I wanted to be the one to caress it off, but not that night. No, I wanted to earn that pleasure. Days, weeks, even months of courting you, till that glint in your eye was my smile and your head turns just so, as you see me, across a room, just like this one.
Since you moved in, I have adored you, every day. I’ve seen myself in your eyes as my image fades. As the coolness of your touch matches the coolness of your heart. That dress hangs in the closet like a promise, like the past might come back again. But tonight you took it out and lay it on the bed. “I’m seeing some friends, tonight.” It still fit just as perfectly, and I wanted to be a dozen admirers.
I watched you go outside, and just around the corner I can see you wait at the bus stop, past the last schedule. I know you are waiting for him, But he isn’t coming for you. He told me, today. He’s coming to me, just as he did when you first wore that dress.