A Chance Meeting She can read entire stories from the lines around your eyes. She can see your past digressions through the cracks in your disguise. She can tell your future failures and the paths to your demise. She knows her part in the night-life cosmic scheme. She knows so much of what you think remains unseen. She can't be touched, like a polished figurine. You'll leave a mark with an oily, greasy sheen. She can tell the room a story and you feel it is your own. She can give away a secret that is hitting close to home. She can smile a micro-second that's for you and you alone. She see's right through, the veil of normalcy and calm. It's just you two, amid the swirl of all that's wrong. She's by your side as the music rolls along. With just a look, it is instantly "your" song. She can make you feel you know her or she's known you all your life. In a minute she's your best friend, in an hour, she's your wife. But when, for her, it's over, you just get on with your life. The circle's run and it's wrapped around your wits. You thought you knew but somehow, sadly, nothing fits. Was in your mind, you must admit and laugh at it. Your place taken, where you thought that you would sit. She can make you feel a stranger, like nothing really clicked. One more word and you'll estrange her; it's not like you were hitched. With just a look you now enrage her; a chance meeting such as this? © Sean G. O'Leary 2017
