h1

prose poetry

just this for now more to come soon …

‘Will it always be like this?’

I sit nursing my cappuccino. I sip the warm brown fluffy liquid and take in the scene. Watching the world unfold. I look to my right and notice a women sitting opposite. I notice her eye brows don’t quite arch naturally making them look completely strait. This somehow makes her look a bit like a hawk. Her brilliant blue eyes seem to beckon me with the promise of exquisite intimacy. Of love. She absently scratches her chin and concentrates on the paper in front of her. Is she alone? Does she hurt?

I sip and notice her forehead crease and eyes narrow. Her hair hangs around her shoulders and nearly falls into her coffee as she leans forward. Suddenly she looks up and smiles self consciously. I look away and feel ashamed. Ashamed of what? I don’t know. It’s an awkwardness I live with. It intensifies with social interaction. My curse. I look at the floor as my heart rate increases. I flush. Look back at the women. She’s sipping her coffee and still looking at me with kind eyes. That look I’m used to. Pity.

I look out of the window. A young couple pass right by. Hand in hand. Together. I just watch.

I get up and my support worker tells me to be careful in loud patronising tones, why do they always seem to think you are about to fall over? I thank the staff behind the counter and my heart pounds in my chest so hard and fast I nearly fall over. I hear my words coming out in a mixed up jumble as fear takes hold. It frustrates me. I take a last look back at the women sitting down. She’s looking at her paper. So I just look and wonder – will it always be like this?

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