I gaze into her eyes,
my reflection staring back at me
Calm, perplexed.
And though I know the soul
behind those eyes.
I also know that her truth, my truth
eludes me.
I want to love her.
Think that she is beautiful,
witty, charming, intelligent.

There are moments when her eyes reflect wisdom
and I am amazed by the way she knows things
silently, unobstrusivley.
But those glimpses are lost
in a larger sense of time
and mostly she frightens me.

I am wary of her intentions,
confused by her imbalances,
the scales tipping from one emotion to another.

Her ideas form like clouds of smoke.
Solid for a moment
only to dissipate in the air
as you blow another ring of opinions.

Her golden flecks of brown
litter her ever changing irises of green.
Doubt creeps into every decision she makes
though she will announce it with strength and clarity.

She'll have you believe that
she's made of armor.
She'll laugh defiantly at
weakness in your prescence.
But in the solitude of her home
she'll weep for her lies,
for the deception she sheds on the world,
and for the heart the mystefies her.

She says that she doesn't know who she is
The mocha skin that glows
Or the golden highlight of curls
She says that it's her soul that remembers times of long ago
but she has no rope to lead her home.