What True Love Looks Like Poem by Lisa Wilson

For less than five minutes
I saw him.
Under the stars of our wind-whipped city,
teetering on the edge of a crumbling cliff,
All I could do was stare
at his sharply sculpted chest,
his blood-stained tattoos,
and piercing blue eyes.
We hugged each other, one more time,
knowing that we would never get together again.
Like a true gentleman,
the bartender from the Bronx sent me on my merry way,
never leaving my side,
until my Prius pulled away.