You Might Know How It Is, You Might Not Poem by Dean Meredith

I saw her, and remembered
How guys look down & women look up
I wished I'd worn better shoes
She didn't seem to mind
She was beautiful, not classical
Not cute - my usual favourite
You see I normally go for nerdy girls
She was hard to explain & I liked it that way
I wondered if my eyes said that to her
I'll never know, I didn't ask and
I'd noticed the bruise on her arm
It was subtle, like her I guess
I imagined about it, none of my business
Except for some reason, I did like her
Hoped maybe she might like me too a little
She looked at me quite strange as though
She'd seen something I should not have shown
I didn't know what it was or could have been
I never asked her, she never told me
It might have been the bruise, so naked
Her flesh giving up a secret, but not a secret
Because it was not covered, and we both knew
It was there, not glaring, but there almost hiding
Subtle in its boldness, all soft & quiet
Not making a scene, like a wisp of yellow cloud
With a tinge of green, disarmed on her arm
I saw her eyes, full of beauty, looking up at me