Des-xpressions

not close my eyes with "love is blind" lies ...i only have one pair of eyes not fool my ears to have lies echo for years ...i only have one pair of ears not shake my focus the "forever us" curse ...i only have one future to focus not take all my time to have all the lime ...i only have one dime of time not toy with my mind to lose and never find ...i only have one mind not take my heart to tear it apart ...i only have one heart not tie my soul to have me imprisoned whole ...i only have one soul not take over my life to feel you are my life ...i only have one life not drain all my love to selfishly deprive this i have ...i have an entire world love

It won't leave, because. . . it lingers: Like the smell of good perfume long into a hot humid sweaty day... Like the scent of a gone lover teasing nostrils, sketching thoughts yonder... Like the first scene in sight when a blind man receives sight... Like that one whose face you spot in a crowd and swear to search for the world around... Like the last words of a loved one echoing, resounding, never to be done... Like mist on a chilly cold morning stinging, like a thorny spirit hoovering... Like memories etched in one's mind replayed yet nobody else can hear it nor find... Like the magic touch of a friend impacting one's life knowing no end... It won't leave because...it still lingers.

She sat infron of her mirror she continued preening carefully dabbing, patting and applying. She combed her well kept hair so long and fair hiding the swelling underneath. Her eyes laddened with colour hiding the gallons of tears shed weary eyes, which sorrow fed. The blush on her cheeks cheeks tired from the bruising for weeks hiding what could give her away as week. Red-cherry flavoured lips sweet scented cherry masking the scent of blood from her severed lips. A tan turtle-neck to "keep out the cold" to hide her scarred neck. Long sleeves to "keep herself warm" but not warm enough for the cold nights but mainly to conceal the wounds. She put on her jewellery slowly as if considering their value as if thinking of her true value. Stilettos pretty high no too high for her but too low to lift her sorry state. She stood up to leave to go about her usual but she noticed something unusual. She put on a smile the most crucial of a...

The oyster curved up containing precious pearls whose somewhat shape had mine curved up my eyes stuck... not long enough to reach not firm enough to immobilise not strong enough to pull closer not destined to keep.

It feels different when I know who you are, when I can put a life behind this sketched treasure, when I can put a character I cannot measure, when I know it was "...my pleasure". It feels different when I know who you are, for I'm sure you're the perfect masterpiece, for no misplaced stroke would make you any less, for you are you despite this imperfect resemblance. It feels different when I know who you are, it's like touching your face down to the unseen wrinkle, it's like staring into your eyes to see that rare twinkle, it's where the relatively real and ideal mingle. It feels different because I'm drawing, you .