Tin Whiskers on a Perfect Face
The eyes, cold blue like sovereign steel, Lashed out with studied surgeon’s skill, No love they’ve felt, no heart save grace, Absent, tin whiskers on a perfect face. Look close, the eyes you say can’t lie. Behind the pain, once beauty grew, For once a love can never trace Sad, tin whiskers on a perfect face. Her dreams long lost of love not known, (alas, the change to live life’s score) Consumed her soul, her breath and pace, Lost, tin whiskers on a perfect face. For now she’s gone, the life... Sign in to see full entry.