Passing Glance (A short story)

I wonder if she sees me staring, I cannot risk any modesty because if I do, when I look away, she might blink out of existence. Too good to be real if not true, because at first glance, my heart lied love.
Not that I know, or have been in, or tried love.
This is ridiculous, I try to look away but find that I am powerless to do so, what is this feeling that I am experiencing? Is it lust? No. Impotence slacks whatever notions I might even think of considering arousal. What is the root of this obsession? This obsession with this entity I, up until now had no idea existed, had no idea breathed the same air I breathed, had no idea walked on the same ground I did. My feet are not good enough to share space with this woman who can’t be just a woman but a feat of nature. I don’t know her name, but something in my heart-
no, my soul-
no, my essence tells me that whatever I am feeling is right.
I do not see futures, I look at her, and there is no future, only a void containing the now that is my entire universe compounded.
If there is paradise, then I’ve found it-
in her.
A stale silence, thick and sludgy rolls upon my vocal cords, rendering me mute in this, a deep, corrupting obsession that haunts my gaze, killing off any possibility of human happiness in what might be the years to come.
What is wrong with me?
Lovestruck, a guy
like me won’t be enough to sate her,
and I am in control of my body again.
I can look away from her again.
I am wrought with the nightmare of a reality that I cannot change,
yet my heart beats so strongly.
What is this ecstasy attacking my sensory?
Smells like weed smoke and cocoa butter,
like grass
and shampoo
and green tea leaves and honey.
Like earth,
like passion,
like strawberries,

slightly spicy.

Smells like heaven if Cheech and Chong went to heaven. Smells like paradise and nirvana if there were a nirvana for a sinner. Valhalla cannot begin to describe this bliss,
she is Ragnarok contained.
The end of the world personified in this woman.
The Apocalypse lives on her lips,
and I know in this passing glance that were mine to meet hers, my world would end surely in Pure Bliss. No question or doubt lies in my mind that she has left me defenseless in what I know is an involuntary attack on my sensory cortex,
Sex is Complex and confusing. Random, I know, but it is a truth as much as it is a mystery. What has history shown me?
That all the girls who’ve blown me fall to the wayside because I chose poorly.
But not her. I know this is right. Know it in the deepest part of me.
Unfortunately, that part of me is filled with shit.
Nowhere near what I need to be to be great enough to be satisfactory,
my eyes can see, but I know that they do not deserve.
Her dreadlocks spill down her back like golden vipers,
biting me, stinging me,
this gorgeous Gorgon turns me to stone,
making every part of me hard.
Climax is imminent if not immediate and ensured.
I am hit with an arrow,
but who’s the archer? I’ve no clue. But I am positive that Cupid is too much of a pussy to phase my thick skin. Who then shot me? Piercing not my heart,
but my idea.
Reconfiguring my ideas and rewriting my existence.
Recoding my essence,
destroying any possibility in here, Hell, or Heaven, that I might not fall in love with her
Right here.
Right Now.
Let me un-braid this dread of destiny,
prove that I am enough
to be enough,
that I can master this mumble making my lips mute.
That I can speak my mind and my soul so that our bodies may one day do the same.
What is your name?
What is your name?
What is your name?
My heart grows giant, omnipotent,
taking control of my vocal cords
forcing me to say what’s in here
What’s in here?
Here it comes….
but my lips lock,
forever closed.
I can remain quiet for only seconds more. Heat builds in my throat, searing my tongue with passions I cannot even begin to describe. I am full of poetics that I am incapable of expressing to circumvent this emotion. I cannot hold it anymore. I grow full with this feeling. All of this lust, this passion, this infatuation, this unhealthy, corrupting, corrupted emotion. Bursting forth like a dam broken. Here it comes.
It is with chagrin that I notice how similar to an orgasm this process is.
But then,
my heart, in my throat, drops to rest in my colon. Shooting the shit, because it has no other choice. What I would have said…stolen from me.
Who the fuck-?
Hand on her ass like you own her. Claiming that which I am sure could not be claimed. She smiles widely and whitely. What trick is this? Who is this man not me? My superior if not my senior. Against my gentle nature, I wish a thousand ill wills on his head. Hand on her ass like you own her.
That should be me.
And if not me,
neither of us.
Who deserves more than I?
Definitely not him. I know this in the deepest part of me,
Still pregnant with shit,
that I am the one to end his smile. His fake happiness. His arrogance. His deceit. His conceit.
I am his defeat.
In a haze I see me making love to all that is his in front of his very eyes, forcing upon him these thousand nothings emptying out my being.

She will be mine.

We make eye contact.

Her Gray pools meet my earthy pits

and all that is unsaid is communicated.
She smiles, for me, sadness growing in both of our hearts because she knows she doesn’t want to hurt Him.
He who can’t realize the gem that shines in front of him. Eyes forever closed, ignorant to this diamond’s glow. Glaring in his face with a light no human words can comprehend. If there is a God, he shines through those gray irises, how can any man not recognize the light of his own creator when he looks upon his divinity? All that is God is in her, emanating through every piercing, making every tattoo glow white hot with it’s luminescence. Her eyes shine.
And he is blind.
We trade glances, but not words, knowing that

She Will Be Mine.

Passing Glance (A short story)

Shaquille Stewart

Montgomery Village, United States

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 3

Artist's Description

Going back and realizing this as one of my stronger works. Read it after writing it a year ago and decided that I simply had to add it

Artwork Comments

  • Anna S.
  • Tuliptree
  • Shaquille Stewart
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