As Questions Go

As questions go round and round, spinning answers never found,
I ask myself every day if I should ask or turn away.
To turn away and never seek the smile I had and hope I lack,
or look toward the warmth inside, where passion burns and heartbeats pound,
these questions chase each other round and round.
Should I still touch you with a word that flutters like the lightest bird?
I could tell you how my heart would race to match yours in a heated pace
as bodies wrapped in lovers' arms writhe and stir and groan and burn.
We could soar on eagle wings and fall like stars while the warm wind sings.
We'd laugh and play and rest and smile, if only for a little while.
This question tugs me every day, asking you to come and play.
Or should I run out into the night, bury my heart far out of sight?
Would it be better to let memories roam, adrift where cold lone winds call home?
They could float on demons' wings, back to where ungiven love springs.
Hell can keep its mocking shadows, mere illusions of all that matters.
I ask if it is best that way. The silent night will never say.
So I ask you not to tell, if heaven wears the face of hell.
I ask you just to close your eyes and feel my thoughts a little while.
A kiss, a tear, a sigh, alone
A hope, a smile, a heart, your own.

©Sonja Torres 2001


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