passing by

she wasn't quite sure
so she never let them get too close.
it wasn't always them that
made her
act this way.
her father abandoned her and her mother
when she was three.
she can't remember his face anymore,
but the image
of him
walking out the door
is forever imprinted in her mind
so she doesn't let them get too close,
at least not close enough
to care if they ever left.
she calls it security,
but it's really just the issues
that keep her guarded.
for a long time,
she thought she was a lesbian,
but what if one of them left too,
then where would she be?
so she never tried it on for size,
never became too involved
for fear of being let down
by someone she could care for.
she didn't need anyone telling
her what she was about.
she didn't need a label
or a tag to indicate
where she had been.
she was afraid that she
would grow up lonely,
but at least she wouldn't grow up hurt.
she wasn't doing it for them
as much as she was doing it for herself.
they would move on,
but she wasn't sure she ever would.
she tried her hardest to
adapt.
she rented a little place near downtown,
right next to all of the shops where
she could see the action without
becoming too involved.
sometimes when she's sitting by the window,
looking down at the street,
watching all the people pass by,
she thinks of her father.
she wonders if he would recognize her now.
she wonders if she would recognize him.
it wasn't him leaving, it was that he never came back.
she didn't know how someone could simply go away
without a trace.
as she looks down at the street
from the comfortable red chair next to the window,
she wonders what she would do if she saw him walking by.
she might cross her legs
and divert her gaze
to look at someone else passing by.