words

too beautiful for us,
never meant for us,
the way it is,
the way it will always be–
we can look,
but never more.

they dance before our eyes
and caress what we cannot have,
such a tease for empty hearts
staring on and on,
ashamed of what we have become.

safe in here, though so alone,
still they move for us,
the curves of their figure
rolling and rolling,
waves of perfection
we know nothing of.

reach out and lose a hand
but no amount of ink
can catch their attention
long enough to matter.

they’ll never know
we cut through life
dreaming of the night,
the night they will be ours
and we can throw them away at last.

-S.C. Martinez