Poetry by Charles Joseph

On The Ferry

We were eying each other during the whole ride. At the end of it, he finally approached me and started talking to me. It was very smooth. It flowed naturally. He thought I was a work of art. A painting. With my make up, the strokes of my hair. I admitted he’s handsome.

I asked him why did he take so long to approach me. Why didn’t he talk to me on the Ferry.

He said I was standing against the wall. Phone plugged, charging. He said I didn’t have any escape route in case I decided that I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. I couldn’t go up nor down. I could only jump off the boat into the water. Which, he chuckled as he said, he hopes he is not that bad.

I asked him who would ever want to escape from him.

I asked him what were his plans for the night. He said he’s trying to take me home. I thought it a joke. But he said it without a doubt. And I didn’t hesitate not one bit. But my friend was waiting. Her and I had no plans, but she was waiting.

I should’ve asked him to come with me.

I should’ve let him take me home. I need alone time with him.


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2 responses to “On The Ferry”

  1. 🥵🔥♥️

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