She was by her own words, a bitch,
but I wondered why the blond.
It was an unnatural dye job
above her dark brown brows,
which told the true color of her carpet
and said her natural color
would be attractive.
She too was a pit bull.
A spitfire of attitude that knew it all
and for the moment, I was her boss.
Back then, I was a teller
and she didn’t like to be told.
I ran my department absolute
and she ran from me.
We started on the wrong foot,
miss stepping on each other’s toes.
A good year of attempts,
I gave up
the fruitless search for better footing
and suddenly she turned.
A calm in our storm
we became… Friends is a word,
but I would never use it
where she was concerned
and she would probably take offense.
She had a knack of turning,
making herself a victim,
but there was, something…
She had a smile, she denied,
always pursing her lips to a frown.
Her eyes shown the sparkle
of a “you will not hurt me” pride,
a glaring defense kept on the inside
far beneath her childish innocence.
When the mask cracked,
her face couldn’t hide
the full-toothed, kitten smile
of her large eyes.
I never knew their color,
for they looked through you
searching for joy, afraid of hurt,
leery of pain and wanting so much
the unconditionality of a life,
promised once upon a time.