He seemed a bit self conscious as he brought out a piece of paper.
“I wrote a poem. Pardon me – its probably rubbish, but I will share it anyway. Its about this woman I’m interested in.” He took a breath and picked up a glass of water.
He took the mike and took his first step of faith into the unknown.
Brown eyes full of secrets.
Pain. Locked deep inside
Sweet lips that promise honey have tasted bitterness.
I don’t know who messed you up and tied you up inside, into little bits of fear and doubt.
Your heart is hard, a barren place.
I only want a chance to make you feel again, make you come alive.
Come out of the shadows
Give me a chance to know you
In my dreams I hold you in my arms
Hear you whisper my name
Telling me that you love me
Then I wake up and you push me away
Lola stared ahead, unmoved.
Nice words that’s all they were words. Empty words. Men were good at that.
Annabel was clapping away.
“Oooh….I wish I was this Brown eyes. Phew! ” She started fanning herself.
People got up and clapped.
Lewis stood up and bowed, looking slightly embarrassed and self conscious.
Despite her cynicism, Lola had heard the passion and feeling in his voice as he delivered the poetry and found herself wondering which the woman that had elicited such an outpouring of emotion from a man who never showed any emotion. Except when it came to work then he would be quick to let you know, that he did not tolerate anything but excellent work ethics.
Who was she?
What kind of a woman could pierce that ‘hard-man’ exterior he wore like a cloak.
Why did she even care?
She could see him making his way through the dimly lit room, pausing to shake some peoples hands. The women seemed to be really keen to show their appreciation. She felt it was so pathetic.
She pushed back her chair and got up before she said something extremely sarcastic and spoiled the mood. It was clear the women were all drooling over the poem, and him or maybe both and it was boring her out of her mind. If she left early enough she could get some marking out of the way.
“I’m going to go now. Got a terrible headache.” she lied.
Annabel looked worried. ” Oh. Are you sure you are ok to go by yourself?”
Lola nodded slipping her coat over her jeans and casual smart blouse. Her legs couldn’t carry her fast enough as she headed towards the door. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned round.
******************************************
Lewis didn’t exactly look pleased to see her.
His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Running a hand over his head, wondering what was going through her mind. He was relieved that she fixed him with a blank stare.
She didn’t have a clue. Didn’t know how he felt .
“Miss Adesoya?”
She shrugged. “Its my first time.”
He seemed to be digesting this.
“Hope you had a good time.”
She shrugged.
He looked at his watch. ” Well….see you at work.”
She nodded.
She manoeuvred her way through the crowd and left.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Lewis drove home, lost in his own thoughts.
It had been a bad idea. He should never had shared his thoughts in that poem. It had been stupid, thoughtless…presumptuous.
He was a creative person. He had started jotting his random thoughts down and paper and found out that he was writing poetry and people said it was good. He started testing his stuff out at performance poetry nights and no one laughed or said it was awful.
He had written the poem on the night he had dropped her off at home. That was the night he had spent thinking about her, wondering why she was so prickly and unapproachable. The night where every attempt he had made to try and get to know her better, had been met by a stony wall of resistance, even suspicion.
Seeing her in the club had really jolted him, but from her response he could see that she hadn’t realised that the poem had been written with her in mind.
It would have ruined any kind of chances he was hoping to have in the future.
His lips curved. Talk about presumptuous. What even made him think she would be interested in him anyway – let alone of standing a chance with her?
Well. A guy could hope.
He shook his head as he turned on Smooth Jazz FM and let the mellow music work on his anxious mind.
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Real Romance 