(That look)

There's a look when caught that pierces through the veil of any faux ingenue.
It cares not for the past, it does not speak,
It doesn't ask nor does it seek.
That look that guides the hand of desire directly into the mind of its affection.
As though every tie to fact and reason  destroyed by primal insurrection.
Those sacred moments before the act are as delicious as they are deadly.
Oh what I'd give for a lifetime of looks
that connect me to the hunger within me.