Stupefied.

Maybe he should not have smiled.
Maybe.
Or maybe he should not have walked like that,
or talked like that.
Darn, maybe he should not have even come?
Or maybe not now,
not like this,
not the way he did,
not the way I saw it.
Oh, but he did.
And now my mind is fixed–
fixed on every detail of the night, since I saw his smile.
And now, I look eagerly out my window,
awaiting the gold black shield that bears another night–
for maybe it will host his smile.
And he was like a miracle, you see.
Like a lightning that cast itself swiftly
and momentarily
into the darkness that once was my heart.
I had not been expecting it;
and I had not quite seen it until it ceased.
Yet, much as it was swift,
it had goaded my heart into an instant of frenzy.
And how dare I remain the same,
after such a defining moment of being stupefied?

**

© The Short Black Girl, 2016.