Librarian red lips
and forbidden tale hips
with poetry made of dreams
in the colors of her eyes
I heard silk secrets
in the whisper of her voice
of the lust and pleasures
of her velvet cloud skin
and the treasures of love
beneath the scars of her heart
and I was a fool and a beggar
and starving to know
the pain behind her smile
and the weight of sadness
in the tears she hid
beneath the blush of her cheeks
and who she was
when the lights went out
and the books slept
and would the kiss taste the same
when she washed
the red down the drain
and would the poetry
still pour from her eyes
after the colors in her pain went dry
what could we be
if we didn't turn another page
or speak another word
and we skipped past the part
where tragedy interrupts
could we live between the lines
hiding in the spine of a book
no one else could find
what could we be
if we just stopped to believe
in a love made of
poetry and dreams