Old Fashioned Barometers

your look ... Sometimes you lose

Your eyes ...
that look that tells me so things I whispers
that you possess,
that whispers to fly me to take it off,
that shows me your hell and paradise,
this that tells me about your past and future,
that he loves me in this ,
that looks down on me, watching me
that with desire,
that it is a liar,
that it occasionally ignores me,
that kills me in the morning, I relive that
by nights,
that for so many days to wait,
that he wanted for centuries,
that might not have ever
ordering that you drop your feet, imploring
that love you through the years, that
I gave you my imploring existence, one that sends
miss you for ever,
that makes me have her die ...