He:
His nose,
A blonde bud of flesh,
Twinkled and twitched beneath his ebony eyebrows
As my heart went silent.
He said nothing,
Smirking with belittlement to himself over a flourish of cards.
His eyes,
The kind born from winter's congealed breath,
Meant nothing to me as I kept myself from
Smiling.
His lips curved and puffed
Like that of a stern child.
His fingers scrambling after a turn or two to
Take, grab, murder my heart--
And rebuild it,
Within the softest of innocent noise.
He meant nothing to me until he
Breathed, spoke, moved.
He meant nothing to me until he
Enveloped his arms around
Her.
He meant more to me then.
Much more.
