Behind the gates of a glance

 

My imaginary hand reaches out to ou,

My finger tips eager to caress your cheeks

Anticipating the softness of your skin

Without ever having touched it.

Your eyes bury me like
Indian ocean waves,

I’d be scared to drown if it didn’t feel so safe

And yet I barely know your name.

You are beautiful. The kind of beautiful

that magazine deadlines are too tight for,

And even if they weren’t, photos don’t show

The paradise behind a glance’s gates.

I have been there, and now am punished

With the knowledge that it is unattainable,

Leaving my heart forever longing

With my imaginary hand reaching out to you.

~ by spasmicallyperfect on November 28, 2006.