We sat, I smoked.
I told you that you were beautiful.
You didn't know that this was an opening gambit.
You said you hated your nose and that no one had ever told you that.
I was surprised.
I know you're not a beauty queen
But there's a certain elegance in your face
An intelligence
And a sweetness in its angular set
I'd have thought someone else would have recognised.

So you were happy about that, and I was too.
I was happy to be the first to tell you the truth
Then I leaned in
To kiss you.
You leaned back
And I remembered through the bacchanalia
That you had told me you adored another
Though I was hoping that he'd be a foil
An elaborate ruse
But you didn't want me.

You never told anyone. We headed off through the crowd to dance again,
You didn't even mind holding my hand
And I was so grateful that you still would.
We never discussed it.
I used to hope that I'd simply shocked you
And sometimes I still tell you,
When you tell me about your witch tooth that crosses the other one
Or complain that your voice isn't native enough here,
That you're lovely
That it's wonderful
That I couldn't imagine the river deep cadences of your homeland any better
And why would you want to alter yourself?
Though I omit the third.

We are still friends without awkwardness;
And that is all.

I wonder what would happen if I ever did have the courage to approach MH. The Austrian was, theoretically, the most plausible choice for me. She is around my age and was most likely to possibly entertain the thought of me. What would a woman more than twice my age, with a child, say? A woman who, most probably, likes men. Who has never gone out of her way to speak to me; I think she thinks I'm fairly pathetic, which is exactly how I currently feel about myself.

I have told her that she is excellent and thanked her for letting me do things that others usually wouldn't, as regards her job. She made my job easy because she's so brilliant at hers; she allowed me to be this other person. She must know she's amazing, and even if she doesn't then it means very little coming from an absolute novice who learns at a snail's pace like myself.

I adore straw blonde hair with a kink at the back
and capable wrists with hands that fit
strolling up and down a room
indicating with sussuration.
You were teased about your speech
though it's soft and lovely with a hint of steel
and that hurt you, I can see
though it shouldn't.
And, like CW, you sometimes confide in me. Not far,
but enough. I have never told you that you are beautiful.
It's a step too far. You wouldn't want it.
I simply have to hope that someone else is saying it to you anyway.