Art for fuck’s sake

I get a beer and lean on the bar
I can smell the pheromones
He’s been sweating into that t-shirt all afternoon
I want to touch
but he doesn’t even smile
I think he’d be intense in bed
A really good hard fuck
But he’s so serious
He doesn’t flirt
And I don’t know where to start

We’re too scared to say what we want to say
to the person we want to say it to
because what if they don’t like it
They might laugh at us
or never speak to us again
and we’d feel foolish
and that would (it seems) be worse
than our unrequited desire

So we write it instead
Publish it
Perform it
Trying timidly to deliver our message
in the ridiculous hope that our target
who we suspect likes us too
although maybe that’s just a mirage
will be emboldened
to touch us
somewhere more intimate than
the shoulder
Somewhere like the waist
That’s always nice
Or ask us to dance
or buy us a drink
or invite us to a movie or
just you know back to their place to uh look at their books

First published in Creatrix