I dressed as myself for a Halloween party.
Nothing scares me more than falling in love,
and the horror of waking up alone haunts me.
As a wallflower, I sip a beer—a shitty beer.
I shift my gaze through the crowd.
A woman’s eyes align with mine.
I take a sip and turn my head.
I take another sip and return my gaze.
This woman still has eyes for me.
I remember her from somewhere.
Maryanne.
I recall her name and face, but that’s all.
She lights a cancer stick
and gives a seductive puff.
Maryanne does this several times.
She never removes her gaze.
She wraps her hair around her neck,
exposing her sun-kissed skin.
I swallow hard and finish the beer.
A tidal wave of cusses at my intentions
as affection baked in our attention
as we grin back and forth.
And again, we fix our
face with a smile
and alluring sparkles
in our eyes.
Maryanne’s friends lean in
to shoot the shit,
not noticing her interest in me.
No one knows we’re falling
head over heels.
Under my knees and above me
as my thoughts fly in the face
of reason to embark on a path
traveled fewer times than claimed.
My skin is paper thin.
But I embrace Maryanne
with the warmth of my trust,
she melts, spilling into
my arms, and now we’re sinking,
and people want to know what
we’re thinking.
Love is no longer a horror story.