Tattered clothes, empty troves.

Devious as a spider you’re always curious of the outsider.
In your own little world you’re not quite unfurled.
Inside your myriad of minds, it’s you I adore always wanting more.
What is underneath these skins you wear, what happens if I brush back your hair?
Should I take a chance, should I make an advance?
Secreted away in me is something you'll never see.
It is the little things that give me wings, sweet touching and desperate clutching.
But I'll lock it away, it’s there to stay.
You'll have to pay a heavy price if you want the key, if you want me to be free.
So for now I'll stay a silhouette, hopefully of something you won't forget.
It’s a string of vignettes; I don't want to be one of your regrets.

Author's Note

This was written by Ben Lingemann.
Please do not plagiarize, All Rights Reserved.

Reviews

[Lily Mae]

My stomach got a little nervous twinge reading this. I think we've all been in this place at one time or another. You have definately penned the feelings well. My favorite part was "what happens if I brush back your hair?" Its like I could almost see it.. :) x

[Treo LeGigeo]

Nice, I and liked the rhyme scheme. Though the third line doesn't seem to fit ("minds" doesn't rhyme with "more). But still I enjoyed it, good job.