When looks come puzzled, honed with eyes of doubt
upon the unsuspecting child of faith
and pierce her neck and what hangs thereabout
and draw the blood from such a holy place
Who looks to look and not to see is blind
and kills without intention, still the same
commands the devil’s stare of unrefined
abasement, takes the devil’s filthy name
Her mouth endures the sweetness of her lips
with thoughts of love, pure love, behind closed eyes
Her hair, a veil that mingles fingertips
distractedly as she distracted sighs
Caught unaware in reverie by chance
by one with knowing fruit within his glance

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