I don't care for

there is something about those eyes that kept me chained to this love

for they seemed to be the first that I couldn't see right through

as if rather than a window to your soul

they were a wall. 

a symphony of saxophone and jazzy drums plays

for a crowd of men in wide collared shirts and women in boxy dresses

in their hands are drinks

martinis and manhattans 

with glistening ice cubes inside their glasses

we're so close. 

I am wrapped in the touch of another 

suspended in a state of contentment

and soft safety. 

the lights in my room are warm

and in the mirror