All Our Midnights Led Up To This Moment

Prose Poetry

Photo by Dollar Gill on Unsplash

I could have counted down the minutes that first night — but I was too caught up in tracing the trail of your face, your eyes brilliant blue even in the dim light.

But I didn’t lean in and seal the deal, as the phrase goes. We just shared embarrassed smiles until our hearts settled back into a steady rhythm. I didn’t know where this would lead, but I wanted to have hope that the idea of us wouldn’t dissipate with the rising sun.

I waited. You waited. We circled each other as if we were stalking prey when, really, we were just like two clumsy cubs who had no idea what the hunt meant.

The second midnight, you were the one to touch my lips with your fingertips before tipping back my head. But then the fireworks went off and we jumped as if we’d lose our skins right there. Again, we just shook our heads and smiled because Fate seemed such a silly little mistress of mischief.

I waited. You waited. We eyed each other across so many distances — a room, a table, an elevator — but we didn’t bridge the distance as if we were too afraid of what it would mean for the possibility of what we could be.

By the third midnight, I was standing with my friends while you weaved throughout the crowd. You weren’t looking for me, but I watched you, the…