The most mature face, the first to be loved,
Yet in her every move she appears to be gloved
- open in affection, closed off with her soul,
It remains unclear if she doesn't play a role.
A walnut personality,
There is nothing sharp, edgy, witty
To find in the honest kindness she gives.
When four o'clock dies, her calm gaze still lives.
The hint of a warm, loving embrace
Flickers in the outline of her face
With the lack of an answer revealed.
It's a scary theory, that there's nothing sealed.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
