Libra man

The first evening was rose quarts

Lying on orange rocks, a bed of sea weeds

Your skin sticky from the Mediterranean water

We didn’t speak because

We were catching up breathing in the same rhythm

Face to face

Just to lie next to you, the first touch hadn’t premiered, hovering above us

That’s the kind of tension I can fall asleep to

They say soulmates either look like opposites or twins

When we took our first shower in your penthouse apartment

I noticed how our bodies were

the same

slender, bony

You have a back stained with moles too

But your eyes are undoubtedly greener than mine

I liked

You

You liked

My body

Now I’m misshaping the story. I wouldn’t want the reader to misinterpret!

The latter was said before the former -

I admitted to my emotions before you

In fact, never mind the ‘before’

You never admitted to them at all

But you invite me to your childhood island

And you stop to smell my skin on your way to the living room

I wonder what all that charm is for

Only to deceive what is not, behind the façade of your

Cult leader impression

You want to mediate the group

You want to please and entertain

we all listen to your story attentively – because you tell it all so well

And I fall for the wisdom that emanates from your first-person perspective

Mistakenly

There is no wisdom

No maturity after all

if you never mention how you feel

but swarm around it with elongated silence

You leave a girl uncomfortable

to interpret on her own

Yet you praise communication as conflict resolution

and the essence of hard conversations

I already put my sleeve on the table

But you stand firm in your rock mode

So in the end, I break it off over text

Because I esteem you incapable of an open-hearted talk

You are not my soulmate

You are just a Libra who lured me in with beauty and diplomacy

Your promises and good behavior are merely envelopes for things that essentially have no meaning
Under the surface of your stories
All I found was void