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ObserveHer
December 8, 2020
The only time she takes her mask down
is to shakily sip her monster.
Brittle fingers, fiending for something to gift her a cold, familiar rush.
The class in session isn’t important to her.
Nothing ever seems to be important to her.
Two pieces of hair, each a different color than the rest, frame her hollow cheekbones.
She paints a blurry self portrait on the window next to her. I see her eyes, cutting black holes into the glass.
Serotonin, dopamine, acetylcholine
fill the blank air.
I wonder, if she spoke out, if her words would waiver the same way her eyes do.
© Sindi J., Westminster, MD
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I wrote this piece as a recall of my psychology class. I remember one day, I noticed a girl who sat by the window. I was so captivated by the mystery she carried with her, and sat there in wonder, admiring her beauty and prescence. After I wrote this poem, we started hanging out. I got to know her better, and I got to know her and she got to tell me about her life. This poem is about the wonder I had about her, before I got to know who she is.