Darkly Dreaming Demographic.

Madame I do beseech-you,

Would you take my heart in-hand?

Kisses sweet as honey-dew,

Please, more than I could withstand.

Your eyes hide blessed charity,

Lips that are ripe for plucking,

Your voice is sweet clarity,

That I’d compare to nothing.

Beauty there and innocence,

To touch your skin would madden,

Or bring serene blissfulness,

I leave that to you Madame.

Inside there’s faint whispering,

Of something lying dormant,

Something small that’s flickering,

Ever so slowly forming.

What it is I dare-not-say,

But it cannot go ignored,

Or else it might fade-away,

And never to be explored.

Perhaps thinking wistfully,

Impossible to define,

Perchance we just kissed-fully,

It needn’t be locked inside.

Pieces that I’ve collected,

All that’s left of you lingers,

They’ll never be connected,

Plucked away by thin fingers.

I’d have given anything,

Just to feel your warm embrace,

To feel our hearts opening,

As I gazed upon your-face.

It would’ve been heavenly,

Standing in the rain kisses,

Instead hearts fall heavily,

And all that’s left is pieces