Embarrassment

by James Miraflor


Melting Fish

I believe
now is the time to
write about embarrasment,
that gnawing, sickening
feeling that we,
from time to time,
come across, unstoppable,
inevitably irresistable,
like pounds of blood
rushing into
our faces.

And as I write this,
and I remember, my throat
suddenly twisted itself,
and I felt like speaking
in tounges, my saliva,
antiseptically delicious,
recountings moments of:

a failed flirt,
a misspoken statement,
an immature stance,
an inappropriate gaze,
an uncomfortable laugh.

But these moments, ah these
moments; you keep them,
as you keep your old
highschool notebooks,
a testament of melancholic
shame, disgust, and finally,
discovery.

Embarrasing, isn't it?