Open Mic Nights

Brown eyes beautiful long lashes curved for days His head sways to the sound of the beats to my rhymes I notice he comes here all the time Sits in the same chair sips on the same drink His eyes on me his ears giving me attention When I'm up on stage I wonder what he's thinking Is he catching my drift of the poem Is he just listening or if he hears me to Does he know the poetry I speak is about him That I stare in his direction whenever I write in the background I wonder if he knows my name and if it means something to him Do the words I speak talk to his heart And if so, does it speak the same language Or is love just foreign to him like it use to be for me Does he even know that he gave my poetry meaning I threw away the paper and let go of the pen When I speak on the stage I only look at him He inspires the words that come out of my mouth But in the back of my mind I wonders if he really notices me Or will he just be a man in a distance Sitting in the same chair, drinking the same drink Killing time