Delia’s blush goes well with my lips
connected to her kiss.
My last excuse fell through,
so I arrived for a date,
sitting across from her
in a crowded diner.
Delia’s eyes sparkled with rays,
even though the sun had set,
spreading warmth through
my misconceptions.
What to say, I didn’t know,
so Delia said it for me.
We talked and ate a little,
but we talked more
about this long-shot romance,
a fling that I’d given an undersized
chance of success.
But betting butted heads
with my religion.
Besides, I lost a lifetime
of tossing over sleepless nights,
sexing women between
satin sheets.
Only to shame myself into a guilt trip
to pray for forgiveness for my weakness.
I hope that I’m known
for anything that lacks the offense
that Delia had arranged.
If only she had turned her back
on me as a useless source
of information.
But we both know that blaming me
feeds an ego she swears I hold hostage
to shield her from her grudge,
a grudge that we didn’t do this sooner.
And that’s why I’m here.
Delia slid her hand across the table
to embrace mine.
I traced her eyes until
the warmth of her touch
explained that her intentions
were as good as mine.