conversation of admiration

If you were here now.
Were to walk through my door.
Dressed in colours,
Of shades to thrill.
Face pale, cool & thin.
Eyes of Ice.
Smile warm & delicate.
Fingers long,
Smooth & eloquent.
Palms soft,
Hot & rich.
Nose quaint & noble.
Hair falling over face,
Swept back with grace.
Revealing ears,
Prodding & poking
Through an intertwining forest. 

To say "Hi."
Then offer your hand
For mine to fill
In curious grand.
"Pleased to meet you,"
I'd reply in wavering pitch,
Body & bone trembling
With emotive tentative grip.
"Perhaps a drink," I may think.
"Tea or coffee?"
Oh to weak I am sorry.
"Strong & black, no sugar thanks."
Mines with milk & a tea bag.
"Mmm that's better, awful weather,"
You might endeavour.
"Cold & gloomy,
But I quite like it like that."

 "How are you? You inquire.
Now would I tell you
Of my quiet hell?
As you look on
In curious stare.
Would you really care?
I may be forced to confess.
Breaking under emotional stress
Though I fear I may reply,
"Oh you know, I'm Ok?"
But my heart may be herd
With increasing thud beneath skin.
Enough for you to see in
To the anguish & pain.
Through pervious pores
Crawling with anxious thoughts.
Imprisoned, awaiting release talks.

 

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