never quite knowing what she’s thinking
those arctic blue eyes a curtain
over a mind that can snap like a steel trap
around the head of a curious animal
enticed by a few moments of an alluring mirage
fool enough to stick it’s head in
her brownish wavy dirty blonde hair hanging down
seductively almost over her right eye
concealing a prominent four inch scar that I catch a glimpse of
from nearly the corner of her eye
down the side of her face
the shape of a quarter moon in the distant milky way
or a sweeping left hander at hockenheim
I eventually muster up enough courage to ask how she got it
“A jerk supposed boyfriend hit me with a goddamned bottle”
she snaps with daggers in her eyes
I immediately regret bringing up painful memories
physically and emotionally — playing psychologist, I reason that explains a lot
but I’m no freud, skinner, or pavlov...what the hell do I know
maybe she was already a hornets nest before that happened
now though I see her through more sympathetic eyes
supposing that story is true and I don’t have any reason to doubt it
I can understand her razor blade words
I want to be good and kind with her if she’ll let me
to try and cool her steaming volcano demeanor
I’ve known her a bit and I’ve never seen her laugh, her smile always sarcastic
I don’t even know if it’s possible but god I want to try
