The Lover's Mask

Perhaps the fear of nothingness
kept him talking.

He spilled his soul to flowered women patiently.

His zealot passion
for the walking wounded
pounded admirers away.

The walking wounded--himself,
the covered mirror in his room
hid the uncertain actions that trailed behind him,
from the uncertain women intrigued by his confusion.

A spider was he in decision.

And indecision was his mighty weapon:
Shield of change, and sword of shelter.

Beauty reflects all senses.
His possible elegance,
his stiffled persistance,
buried touch, sight, and smell.

His covered mirror,
and coward intensity,
were not the mask he desired.