Butterfly Eyes

 

I could tell you,

To look into,

My eyes,

And tell me,

What in them,

You see.

For me and you,

That would give you a clue,

But that would not be wise,

Because you would see,

Where I bleed.

I’m not talking,

About a need,

I’m talking,

About a seed,

Of thought,

That bears your resemblance,

That should be brought,

To your attention.

This seed,

If planted,

Could be a weed,

Or it could breed,

Something that’s wanted,

And provide some sort of feed.

You have been a muse,

For a few,

Of my verse,

But that is my curse,

Because that is all,

That is said.

I can’t call,

Face turns red,

Speech becomes slurred,

And when face to face,

Nothing of meaning is heard,

Not even a trace,

Of how pretty you look.

If you were a book,

I would barely,

Be pass the introduction.

It is all so rarely,

We get pass,

The necessary functions.

If this was a race,

I would have lost already,

But like a rock,

I’m stuck here steady.

I’ve been told to clock,

Out of this nothing pursuit,

But how can you,

When a duet,

Takes two.

If you ever look,

Into my eyes,

You might be took,

By surprise,

Might be a little shook,

But it would be nice,

To see the bait off the hook.

So look into my eyes,

Won’t you,

Because if you,

Only knew,

They where this hue,

Of blue.