Enemies-to-Enemies.

A Poem💌

I did a bold thing and asked a man to coffee,

platonically, really,

but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t the whisper of a question in my heart

if the universe had finally, maybe, delivered the mate I’ve yearned for,

if I’d soon be close enough to ride the waves of his blue eyes,

strangers-to-lovers and all that.

.

It started well enough,

our coffees warming the ice of unfamiliarity between us,

before a gleam entered his eye

that rather than promising the cosmic crackle and pop of hearts and hormones merging,

it said: “fight me”

- does he not like me?

.

My non-date went from charming to combative,

his handsome face now marred by a micro-expression that reminded me of contempt,

and my inner lover girl was left scrambling

to retrace her steps and figure out how she earned this,

how her innocent imaginings could go so wrong,

how he could look past her good intent

and decide something negative, something wrong, about her

that he’ll probably stick by forever.

.

It took the next 3 days of intrusive thoughts

and realising that the storm of anger and embarrassment in my heart

was… rejection,

before I decided: maybe I don’t like him back.

.

Because enemies-to-lovers sounds great on paper,

a tale of two people who fundamentally misunderstand each other,

only to realise they are perfect soulmates -

except in real life I think it’s more like enemies-to-enemies,

Pride and Prejudice if they never overcame their pride and prejudice,

the six-foot villain in the dark fantasy novel

who’s actually just a d*ck,

or the two people who get off on the wrong foot

and don’t proceed into a comedy of errors

and an inn with only one bed left.

.

Maybe I’m being too hasty

and this is the beginning of an epic love story -

because we’re told that if a boy is mean to us,

then it means he likes us, right?

I think I’d rather imagine leaving my new enemy on a desert planet in a scifi novel,

or maiming him with a pencil in a spy thriller,

or throwing him down a well in a medieval period drama,

or letting the dragon eat him in the romance fantasy…

because god forbid one more woman believes that a man’s bad behaviour

is a sign of attraction.

.

I’ll let myself imagine all these things,

but in my brain they will remain,

not just because they’re impossible, or illegal,

but because I’m not that person,

and I don’t want to be his enemy,

no matter how much he may have misjudged me.

.

Strangers-to-strangers just doesn’t have the same ring to it,

yet I suppose in real life, I may just wave at him from across the street,

and let it all go.

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Enjoyed this poem? Drop a comment about an enemies-to-lovers or enemies-to-enemies experience you’ve had!💌

Love and light,

Anthea