walls without a face

she hides behind her hands
she knows him, but she wants
to truly see who he is,

how beautiful he looks,
exquisite, behind the words
that tell her all about him
synthesized into musical rhythms
a picture to be scrutinized,
delicately, art that deserves
thoughtful gazing

images of a wild heart
transcend through small glimpses
of hopeful wanderings
that lead him to her

she can sense the colors
of him, like stained glass
an aura of light and dark
crevices filled with thick veins
that pulse and cleverly hide
the breaking points

intrigue and hesitations
secrete themselves in his
voiceless, faceless song,
where he waits for her to read
between the lines