The Scorpion An The Bull

A Poem by becca

Just a poem about love. It doesn't rhyme. Deal with it.

When the bull met the scorpion, he was just like any other she’d ever seen.
Black.
Shiny.
Defensive.
Stinger pointed in any direction of possible attack.
Quiet, but not shy.  Scorpions come in all shapes and colors and sizes, just like the bull. But he watched her closer than she realized. However, she barely noticed him at all. At the time she danced with creatures less deadly and threatening. In a way the bull felt safer knowing she could keep the scorpion at a distance. But all the while he called her out, taking strike after strike, trying to reel her in close enough make her listen.
The bull is stubborn and too carefree to listen to him, and so she passes by him time after time until one night when she finds herself alone.
Lost.
Dazed.
Confused.
And she is taken aback at the sudden abandonment.
But it is not something that the bull is unprepared for. She is practically trained in the art of loneliness. She handles it well. The scorpion notices, but is done competing for her attention. He has moved on in hopes that one day she will come around. Tonight is the night, and she does. The bull allows herself to be drawn in and penetrated by the scorpions incredibly longing gaze. She feels the electric spark every time their eyes meet and instantly she is drawn to it as strongly as the scorpion is drawn to the bull. Yet he is not nieve enough to mistake her sudden kindness for infatuation.  