Creases in Silk
Disclaimer: Nothing, except a very spiffy Erik I (As in Erik the First)
doll. Fwee.
I hide in silence,
Waiting.
Waiting for you to put a single crease in your gloves.
One single movement of your hand could cause that beauty,
That perfection.
That perfection that I had been awaiting,
That beauty of imperfection in those gloves.
I knew this was my only chance to see you,
But you were there nonetheless.
Not caring about the others.
Perhaps they needed a visit from the Opera Ghost.
An angled hat,
A swirling cape.
A full mask,
Opera attire,
And those gloves.
Creases could be deceiving in life;
Gifts as well as curses.
Like secret beauties,
Not open to those who do not wish to see.
But I see.
I see those creases in your beautiful gloves,
And that one crease behind the mask.
The rest of you is perfect,
But they do not understand.
If all of them examined the creases in their own lives-
In their gloves.
But I knew my own crease.
Slowly, silently, I had fallen in love with you-
And your imperfection.
To me, that crease was perfection
All in its own way.
You end your praise
Of that girl that sang for you.
The one who you love-
But she does not love you in return.
That in itself is a curse.
Another crease in those gloves folded together.
To love her but not see the others who love you.
My dream, my love, my gift, my curse, my crease-
My angel.
Disclaimer: Nothing, except a very spiffy Erik I (As in Erik the First)
doll. Fwee.
I hide in silence,
Waiting.
Waiting for you to put a single crease in your gloves.
One single movement of your hand could cause that beauty,
That perfection.
That perfection that I had been awaiting,
That beauty of imperfection in those gloves.
I knew this was my only chance to see you,
But you were there nonetheless.
Not caring about the others.
Perhaps they needed a visit from the Opera Ghost.
An angled hat,
A swirling cape.
A full mask,
Opera attire,
And those gloves.
Creases could be deceiving in life;
Gifts as well as curses.
Like secret beauties,
Not open to those who do not wish to see.
But I see.
I see those creases in your beautiful gloves,
And that one crease behind the mask.
The rest of you is perfect,
But they do not understand.
If all of them examined the creases in their own lives-
In their gloves.
But I knew my own crease.
Slowly, silently, I had fallen in love with you-
And your imperfection.
To me, that crease was perfection
All in its own way.
You end your praise
Of that girl that sang for you.
The one who you love-
But she does not love you in return.
That in itself is a curse.
Another crease in those gloves folded together.
To love her but not see the others who love you.
My dream, my love, my gift, my curse, my crease-
My angel.