There are certain who can read a face
And certain who can’t.
A face like a novel
The wrinkles intrigue, the mouth irony
The eyes, who hasn’t been there?
Promiscuity at the heart of vision
And the hair ears cheeks
And the whole shebang in motion
The faces that populate us until
One of them, leaning over
Sez: she’s gone.
Someone to close your eyes.
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