On The Stairs

As I was going down those ill-famed stairs you were coming through the door, and for a second I saw your unfamiliar face and you saw mine. Then I hid so you wouldn't see me again, and you hurried past me, hiding your face, and slipped inside the ill-famed house where you couldn't have found pleasure any more than I did. And yet the love you were looking for, I had to give you; the love I was looking for -so your tired, knowing eyes implied you had to give me. Our bodies sensed and sought each other: our blood and skin understood. But we both hid ourselves, flustered.