I walked into a party,
scoping out friends,
and watched you mingling by the bar.
Your lips moving,
talking, smiling, pursing
as you halted to hear another.
Those lips every so often
caressed the wine glass,
your tongue smoothed out
gently any residue,
pushing through a hide-n-seek gesture.
My knees could no longer sustain me,
and I found a space by the lounge.
Friends came and joined me
while I kept an eye on you across the room.
We never held eye contact,
but I watched religiously for awhile as
your slender long fingers
moved through the conversations,
or touched your lips with appetizers,
or just held the glass.
I wondered where those hands had been,
how long those lips could kiss,
and how your voice would sound in my ear.
I retreated to my company,
trying to gather my thoughts…
someone like you could never fall for me.
Hours later I searched for you,
found you dancing with a group,
moving so methodical through the rhythm.
I thought I would never see you again.
As I went to the bar,
I felt a touch on my shoulder,
turning found your eyes smiling back,
“Did you lose interest already?”
Your hand shook mine with your name in air,
my voice paralyzed with shyness,
yet I managed to make a smile,
a quirky laughter,
and I said my name.
For years I will remember that encounter
of a man
whose lips could make me melt