He does not look at me now
The way that he used to do
At the beginning, the very beginning
When it was all fire and delight
And I would risk anything to feel
Our eyes locking in an intimate embrace
And then I would drag mine away
Steps in an intricate dance
A melody neither of us could understand.

He will not look at me now
Like he looked at me then
When it was both a treat and a
Curse. All that summer
His eyes on me were like
The stinging of a bee
A pleasure and a danger, I could
Not draw myself away, as if I were
Trapped in a bitter honey.

He cannot look at me now
But as he passes I feel
A shiver through me,
The cutting of a baleful wind
Wailing down the chimney, and
An awful thrill consumes me,
As I realise that I want him still.
I need him to look at me
Because when he looks at me
I grow, and I thrive, he gives me
A radiant kind of life that I cannot
Derive from my existence on its own.

Rose Staveley-Wadham