…I may have witnessed some sort of semblance of love, or at least the showings of some ritual puppy love & morning after lust that lingers in the minds of the few who can.
As someone who was sitting on the seats in the back row, everyone was in front of me (except for the person sharing the long end seat to my left). Directly in front of me sat a couple which awakened my mind. They got on two stops after I did and were obviously "with" each other at least in some form of the word.
The girl rested her weary head on her lover's shoulder, his brown stiff suede jacket providing her with the alluring comfort she knew only he could provide. They embraced and then she returned to her previous sitting position: the same adopted by many – head forward, eyes to yourself.
She fondled her hair, a clip keeping her long brown strands all tied up in a bunch and away from her plain face. She moved her hand over to his head and started playing with his hair, a sort of follicle masturbation if you will. It seemed an unconscious action no different to an infant sucking their thumb when they're relaxed in a parents arms, but it was more than that.
She looked at him. His eyes stayed in the straight and steady until he realised she was doing this intentionally. This relaxing act of was for his benefit as much as hers.
He had the pleasure and she the control.
That was all I saw, all my mind described before bus hit Bondi Junction and I departed with the rest of the passengers.
And now today as I stand on the train to St. Leonards, right now even, an amazingly beautiful girl standing next to me. Her boyish looks emphasising her female charm by way of the short cropped hair with pigtails, a South American medallion of sorts drawing attention to hew beautifully constructed neck, and the red toenails alive and well on feet marked by an ankle tattoo through clean white Haivanas thongs.
The red fingernails show a world she wants others to see of her. Past the purple cotton jacket over the black top. She's more than the dark princess the world wants to think of her as.
She's beautiful. She just needs to be told it.
And then she gets off of the train leaving me to my thoughts and a message that will never get through.