Long and black, uplifted strings

that refuse to touch as our eyes lock.

His pools of darkened honey

telling me a thousand words as his lips

only lift at the corners, his hand reaching for mine.

He caresses my skin with pearly gloves,

his golden heart glowing through his chest. 

He places pink carnations in a vase, weaves 

a rope of clover to wrap around my restless 

heart that beats only to melt in his embrace.