just a blouse

With a flirtatious wisp of fabric
the trap is set.

Not an after thought,
I admit;
it is the design of my vanity.
But I expect nothing,
past experience foretells a fraught future.

Sitting at the back of my heart,
that unconscious desire…
to be the desired one.

Desired by someone new…
maybe by that one I caught glancing?

Trap set, target in reach,
the spider watches her prey move into range,
advancing toward a web that has sat
unused for such a long time.

Unnoticed, untended, 
uncared for…

Just wanting to be desired again.
But anew, by that one
caught glancing.

I’m not like her,
The one that caught you…
the one that made you glance.
The one that caught you in her trap.

I am your contemporary,
translation:
I am not young, like her.
My eyes are brown,
not green like her’s.
I have my body which
it is not trim or firm,

not athletic, like her’s.
So many nots to be ignored…
and, you couldn’t…
ignore them.

And I wonder,
Am I the spider now?

Just a blouse.