I long to drown in the depths of her onyx eyes,
As I find myself locked in the burning purgatory of her gaze.
I crave the poignancy of her pretty little lies,
Or to melt in the tender warmth of her embrace.
Even so, I remain suspended in this lukewarm in-between,
Of turning away or reaching for the touch of her hand.
The more I extend my reach, the more elusive she tends to seem,
Floating away with the wind like a grain of sand.
The only time I feel the fervor of her eyes is on the back of my neck,
Averting their gaze each time I turn back to check.
Must I reach into the cold abyss to earn a shred of her favor?
But oh, what a crime it would be
To never again gaze into her onyx eyes.