Selfishly, My Love

She acts like I am not even there.

She smiles a wicked little smile, at some inner joke,

A joke for her alone, one she's not willing to share.

Then, without warning, she looks my way.

Suddenly thrust into her world, how should I be?

I feel so warm and welcome and scared and happy.

"Tell me," she says. "What do you see?"

I am lost in a sea of indecision, what does she want me to say.

Should I tell her I see beauty, is that wise?

Is that what she wants, a scratching of the surface?

Should I speak of the gossamer of her hair, the blue of her eyes?

Or does she want something more, something deeper?

I could tell her of the sensuality of her sighs,

Of the love I dream of, of the dreams I love of,

Or would telling her my hopes be a mere compromise?

What can I say that will keep her here with me?

What does she want of me, what answer will satisfy?

But it is too late, for she has entered her own world again.

Staring at the ceiling, with her private smile, ignoring my cry.