a sadness in the eyes

upon first attractiveness,
mixed with a self-assessment,
pretending you don’t have a “league,”
yet then wondering if s/he’ll speak to you,
the walk up is full of butterflies,
the keeping of the hands at the sides is
torture,
the sputtering of whatever comes out
sure the hell wasn’t planned,
but then when the face appears
looking straight at you,
with a millisecond of focus
before it all goes away &
this is your moment
this is your chance in the spotlight
to keep the interest of the one that
has infatuated now from afar,
only increasing as one became closer &
closer,
so you muster all your wit,
do your best to keep your cool &
remember what it is that you yourself have to
offer,
but as your eyes make contact with his/hers,
you see a sadness,
though s/he does their best to hide it,
there is a story there,
which becomes the most interesting thing
that you never would have noticed
if you stayed ogling from a
distance---
still, it pulls you in,
because the tragedy behind the eyes
is going to reel you in with the rest of the
package, bringing the baggage to the
forefront &
even though you want to make like it’s a
“human thing,”
telling yourself that s/he would have to deal with
your baggage too,
you retract,
make the conversation end quickly
as just another pretty face
becomes laden with drama
which would make this a
project of sorts &
your own interest has
turned.