red, red, red

crimson curls coil about her fiery face
half-turned she unconsciously incites
a glance that takes him head to toe
and as quickly sends me sinking through the floor;
the goblin inside calculates carefully watching
him peer guiltily back beyond mundane me
for one last eyeful of flaming beauty,
makes me crave that gaze
and, more, that vibrant hair.

i want to be that little redhaired girl...to his charlie brown. to his trying not to look back. er. trying not to have me see him look back. i am daisy to her dahlia. she is exotic, inviting. i am plainly me.
whatever motivated me this morning is not enough. not quite. my legs ache from however many miles i ran, a number that will never be sufficient. i will never be what i was. or what i could have been. i've had the repeated revelation. time to get the fuck over and on with it.
she cried in spite of herself when i told her there wasn't a monetary exchange. she told me i don't feel entitled and that she wished i did. she told me that things between the two of us would be a constant struggle until i decided there are some things to which i am entitled.
my entitlement: i would like things to be real between us so i can stop navigating wobbly lines. although he keeps me thinking, my rumination could probably do with a makeover. it has me looking tired, older than my mother.