The eyes don't meet ours, we are outsiders
to the scene, uninvited; if we had any decency,
we would leave, yet we linger, the peeping-toms,
taking it all in, from the unapproving cat that
notices us when the women don't, to every
part of the naked body - a body whose sake
we are here, voyers all - but, there is
something 'wrong' here, something beyond
the titillation we came seeking, something
that clothes her safe from our perversions.
Her gaze is an inward one, lost in thought,
and the flowers shown of no importance.
Just another 'admirer' seeking an audience
in her bed, after another has, perhaps,
just vacated it. Much more is taking place
behind that gaze than ever did on this
bed. Sweating hands may touch the bed
and the alabaster body reclining on
it, and blood-swelled organs may
penetrate the body, but they will never
penetrate that gaze. We should go.
06.12.2023-08.03.2024
#Lyrics #Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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