By La’Niya Jones
Well, hello there.
It seems we meet again,
Yet this time your chestnut hair is pulled up in an elegant bun,
Instead of laying down your shoulders in a jungle of curls.
You’re wearing a flowy blue dress,
Something that catches the eye
But not too much.
You’re trying to blend in.
You seem to be waiting for someone
As you pace in front of the oak bookshelf for the twelfth time.
Looking up and stopping whenever you hear the jingle of the door,
And every time I see a glimmer of hope in your forest green eyes,
Only for them to dye out when it’s not who you’re looking for.
Instantly, your eyes flicker to your hands,
Which have somehow found their way to your necklace.
It must have sentimental value based on the way you’re holding it.
The gem is cradled in your hand like it’s made of glass.
A small smile tugs at the corners of your pin-
Your red lips, interesting choice
You must be feeling bold today,
Though no matter, you still look radiant.
If only I could make you smile.
(Inhale)
Oh no, your face suddenly morphs into disappointment.
A soft sigh escaping the gap between your lips.
Who made you feel this way?
All I need is a name, and the rest is history.
You quickly drop the necklace back down on your soft, bare skin
And turn my way.
And for a moment I felt like the entire world stopped.
I now see every freckle on your face,
Connecting and trying to map out a story.
With your checks dusted a rosy pink,
You look like an angel
Even in this terrible lighting.
Heck, you probably sound like an angel.
I fear that if I ever heard your voice,
I wouldn’t be able to get enough of it.
It would consume me whole,
Leaving me gasping for air.
Sadly, just as quickly as you turned my way, you turned back around.
Playing hard to get, I see
No matter I’ll bite.
Patience is key when it comes to something
As beautiful as you.
Who exactly are you waiting for?
Ah, it seems like the universe wants me to know,
As the door jingles open.
And suddenly, without warning, you break out of your bubble.
You smile so brightly that I’m afraid I may go blind.
You quickly walk to the door, almost tripping on your own feet.
Who could make you this happy?
And without warning a leather arm wraps around your waist
Hosting you up and spinning you around.
How dare he put his hands on you?
Glancing him over, I can tell he isn’t perfect for you.
He dresses like a slob and, from here, I can tell he reeks of beer.
You whisper something to him, and he just nods and types away on his phone.
And for a second, I see your face starting to dim.
You deserve someone put together,
Someone who smells like old books,
Someone who pays attention to you.
No worries; he is just a pawn
Who doesn’t know how to treat a queen.
And once I’m done with him, he’ll know
You’re mine.
Check out “You” on Netflix, season four is now playing.
