Painting Faces. - Poem by Peya Jakob
He walks on with no look back,
and i wonder why he passed me,
everything he touches turns to black,
i turn to see, what used to be.
The faceless man who would not love me,
i wait but he would not take me.
He is the last thing to be-
and then you can not see.
Finally i reach out to feel-
i forget my reallity as his becomes real.
Beneath the hood a cold hand beckons,
and his beauty overcomes-
i forget to breathe, my heart forgets to beat-
like an old lover swept me off my feet.
Not a thing can stop my fall-
i go to him, where all men go.
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