Purple-stained fingernails
Set off peaches and cream complexion.
I wait for you, buoyant,
Pace the room, placing each
Teacup, pen, and barrette
In perfect disarray:
An illusion of apathy,
Carefully controlled.
My green eyes lined black,
Changed to match your dark,
And this is all but natural.
I pace and pretend that I
Don’t need your touch,
The pinks and blush;
That you don’t make me weak,
Don’t toss me between black and pink:
Between I miss you. You can’t have me.
I want you. I don’t.
Someday I’ll try to forget
How you never came.
--Alicia (2011)
