The eyes tell a story that is so left unheard.
In the dying defeat of soul,
In the rot of salvation,
In the hope faded.
Yet still the eyes speak of doorways unopened and unexplored.
Breathe away, touch dismay, ruin song plays,
And within the golden soft eye's one could be lost.
It's like a picture movie in slow motion.
Like a song upon the eve of forever.
And yet, forever in its content could easily be passed
As a moment left displeased.
While the window into the soul, is shattered.
Fragmented into a world of our own choosing.
And tormented a small distance away from the touch of forever.

It is of these moments that the soul considers.
The prison standing bar-guarded around,
Or the open rose but a sense of smell away.
And while in consideration over luring eyes of lusting desire.
One stands upon a threshhold of indecision.
Like the wake upon the water break,
Or the moon tide, upon beach riding high.
It's a devil's play upon the eyes of story telling,
And a walk of courage unannounced.
Yet the fragrance of woman's essence is sweeter
Than the fragrance of the open rose.
Yet the dance of touch,
So temptingly desired.
Yet the kiss of passion,
Secretly and mysteriously admired.

Ah, if not for the music of poets song, and rhyming rhythm.
Ah, but if not for the embrace upon dance floors place.
Ah, but if not for the crowded presence
Distracting from the beautiful essence.
Would the mind skip to the desires of passion flame?
Would the heart beat wildly beyond the capacity of charm?
So, while waiting in patient distraction,
And flamed in romantic's roaming harm,
The cunning senses press closer in rebellion.
It's almost an injustice to feel the beat,
Injustice to smell the sizzle of heat,
Injustice to touch the burning presence within.

But woman, if you only knew how you moved the soul of a man broken.
Ah, woman if you only considered the terms that you deal.
Ah, woman if you only touched the silk that is you.
Ah, beautiful gypsy's deceiving child.
I'm lured by the soft touch of your breath,
I'm lured by the golden surface of your desire.
But perhaps I'm lured most of all by the telling story
Of your taunting, and cunning,
Child-hidden, and innocently sweet,
Devilish and dangerous sensually,
Yet honest eyes.