That Girl

What kind of a girl runs out
breathless, shoeless out of a bar
just to answer that one call
that happens every night (for a week now)
always close to midnight

What kind of a girl uses
all her money (okay, some of it)
on her mobile phone
checking messages online with it
every couple of hours - at times every 15 minutes

What kind of girl whose heart
feels like it's on hot pins and needles
with every mention of another
in Russia, Hong Kong, Singapore -
it didn't matter

What kind of a girl buys
flowers and leaves notes strewn
hidden in the house
to remind him of her presence
even if it's only the lingering traces
of her eyes on his pillow

What kind of a girl lies
in her bed with mascara
making unhappy tracks down her freckled skin
pressed up tight against her bolster
late, oh so late

She's the kind of girl
who's in love with you
She always has been
She is waiting
for you.

And that girl?
She is me.

Petal P. Rose