Who is the happy soul
Lost in his own sense of importance
Never knowing that behind his admirer’s
eyes
Are blue irises of fear?
Who is the happy soul
longing for an affectionate touch
A kiss that never could be his
A love that never was?
And she’s afraid to close the window on his
pleas
and she’s afraid to tell him what she
thinks
and she’s afraid to feed the coiled spring
lest the
creature bites and opens its true eyes
and shows the other side
And yet she must admit that this other
animal
Is really what she wants to see
For unlike the miserable happy soul
This thing is real; as real as real can be
And the time bomb ticks in her hands
And she must decide whether it is her or
him
For even the coldest hearted person knows
It’s too late once you’ve pulled the pin…
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