Flirt.

This cliched little dance we've found;
You cast a line: I nibble, 
You close away and leave me
wondering over my patter - 
(too much, and 
Have I offended?) ~ Shrug
 
I stammer and you take the reigns
as one born to them and more, 
- I wonder now if you felt me breathe in the space you left for it... 
But my relief and marvel both 
are so easily dismissed in the current as you lead us on. 
 
(You're spending more time on this than I'd have believed you had... ) 
 
You throw more hints, (or did you?) 
- and I grabbed for every one. 
Didn't I.  
Then each you dismissed as a trick of the light
And I wonder if you caught my teetering a moment:
(How could I be so crass to think-?) 
 
Musing, now: 
if I'd let one slip... 
If I'd even notice your back-foot.
 
You're inviting, offering only subtleties of so much you could say, 
You interview me, but I was already open to you anyway.
Were you surprised, that you should caution? 
 
But I know your kind. 
I see you. And your scars. 
 
And I can almost feel 
How your eyes would pin me 
as you grip my throat
for our first kiss. 
This poem is about: 
Me

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