just a pretty face
you sweep the feet of men as their eyes fell on you albeit the quickness, casual glimpse
sometimes it transpires as passing comments, in other cases, long conversations and the use of protection (and not)
you lead us in a maze, hynotic is your voice, entralling is your gaze, your looks so coy.
but just as you shine under the flashing lights, just as you own the dancing night, the light shines through, and my look strikes through, like hitting a mannequin, hollow, plastic, glass-eyed.
from here, the spark has left your eye. like an eye-glassed with cataract. so young, so lovely, you're present but somewhere else, you precious spirit, missing soul. like the wisp in the mist, a green could of a dead person.
i know you got soul. but where did you leave it? when has it left you?
