Tuesday, June 29, 2010

How is it...

How is that she is a flash, here & then nowhere,
the surreal prize only for sight nay fingers probe...
How is that she sees embers of desire glow,

but cohere to the blind of doubt, despair & dare...
How is it that she be so enchantingly hale,

kneading d meekness down to d point of irresistible cede...
How is that she seduces my senses,

furtive sousing made out as torrents of joy on the back of pain...
How is that she lets me through but an infinitesimal peek,

just beyond to trace paths but never to reach the shores of her heart...
How is it that she speaks volumes, those words of charms,

and drought my breathe, seize what power of hearing in slow ebbs...
How is that she is in one the moon, sun & stars,

yet I beside be hooded dark in the veil of her presence...
How is it that she plays my heart on a string,
contrasts enshrined in a haze of sweet ambiguity...
How is that she holds me captive in a dream,

lorn hope ever eternal iterated to no end...
How is it that she makes deception a beautiful dance,

truths, lies; the same much more in essence not actual reality...
How is that she leaves me the feel of idyllic scorn,

and yet deeper in love I descend helplessly still...

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