If Only

A single loc
Fell over his eye
And I bit my lip.

I bit it so hard
That I soon felt
The coppery taste
Of my blood.

I wanted to look away,
Look away from
Dark skin stretched over
Rippling muscles that
Knew nothing of office spaces.

Skin that was tanned
To the perfect shade
That reminded me
Of black coffee,
No sugar, no cream.

I watched as he,
Without thought, swept
The rebel loc from
His vision and tucked
It with its brothers
In a loose entrapment.

If only I could
Touch.
If only I could
Taste.
If only I could
Feel.
If only....

While thoughts of
Wanton acts danced
Merrily through my
Mindscapes, he looked
Up and our gazes met.
I should have
Looked away.

Instead I smiled
And he smiled,
Then looked away as
His girlfriend called
Out to him, and
The smile that was mine
Became hers.
I envied her.

With the pricks
Of jealousy, I
Felt pricks of shame
And guilt.

The afternoon light was
Caught in my engagement ring
And was fragmented, sent
Here and there.
I looked at it and sighed.
Only guilt pricked at me.

I said 'yes', willingly,
But I now wonder
If asked now, would
The answer be 'no'.

I looked back down
At my neighbour
And he was now looking
At me. Could this
Be a possibility?

I wonder,
If only....