Stare not at her guileless eyes
Hosting a constellation, glittering
In inky pools full of grace
Trained firmly on your charmed face.
Behind those demure dark lashes,
However, and bitten lip and mellifluous laugh,
Gears are whirring, plans are stirring,
Second sharp orbs are darting
Cautiously, even as
Those that captivate are averted
Your fumbling, erroneous explanations
Only appear to enthrall.
Inwardly, she groans and sighs,
She is aware of more than your all.
Smudged lines of sonnets plagiarised
On the backs of sweaty hands-
She rolls her eyes:
‘Shelley, not Shakespeare,’
While she giggles and “ah” s.
Stare not at her dreamy gaze,
Just turn around and walk away:
Nothing will she offer, and less will you gain;
Evaporate, if you hope to stay sane.