Tears I’ve cried for you
like an infatuated child
again
I must assume I am.
It’s probably
simply that
you don’t react
and I know
I’m never on your mind
when you’re
away.
Maybe I’ve just gotten used
to having you
all to myself that even
the thought of you
with someone else
crumbles
all
semblance
of
composure.
Sadness,
in the heart of my eyes.
You never see
that my eyes smile
falsely.
You never notice the
eyeliner I applied
so carefully
to enhance
what I’ve got,
or haven’t got.
You never appreciate
the new dress I bought
or the weight I’ve lost
or the control I’ve attained
when speaking with you.
You never recognize
your inattentiveness
strikes
my vanity at the
most
tender
spot.
You never notice me.
© Sabrina Santa Clara, 1988