I planned this all along.
No, really, I did, she said.
I found no humor in the November weather,
but her eyes stirred warmth in my soul.
With a slash of satire, her sultry banter coursed
mixed signals attached to throwing her
head back and surrendering a deafening laugh.
My blood escaped with traces
of faces that I see what she sees in me
when I see nothing.
Now, I see her in me.
Her eyes darted a culpable stare my way;
cutting through the suspense that’s reaped
the benefit of satisfying my fear of being
I feign fault.
I carry the burden for what I know not.
The joke… it’s always on me.