Do you love me for who I am,

or what I appear to be,

is it that I'm just a man,

or a soul of mystery.

Words I pledge to pen I write,

and toast your optimistic view,

agreeing that everything is right,

lost souls untold are true.

Language wrestles the frozen mind,

delivers a mournful throng,

smiles portray that they are kind,

but sometimes they are wrong.

Glory eyes stop and stare,

the wink of friendship pass,

you look right through though I'm not there,

my heart seems made of glass.

A cold wind blows and tears my soul,

the passion ripped from me,

an empty life can not be whole,

tied to the chains of mystery.

So where your love that has me bound,

and keeps me warm in the night,

a heart's never lost until it's found,

then darkness turns to light.

You say that love springs from the eye,

and touches deep within,

a true emotion that cannot lie,

but rush along to begin.

Yet in your smile I see the wither,

that has my sight undone,

charms that say to me, �come hither�,

I�ll break your heart for fun.

A crimson smile that has me aghast,

and shreds my hopes to fears,

echoing laughter that seems to last,

follows me through the years.

My heart I state is not for sale,

nor ripe for fumbling hands,

colourful words that now turn pale,

on ears that understands.

Good luck "Poet" !