Lessalove

What would come without words as a means of expression?
How would one paint without a proper palette?
To sing without scale or speak without proper subject,
How would you deconstruct a love to glances and movements?

What then would be the same,
A  gravitational force linking two bodies like an invisible, shrinking cord nearing them upon their own beating hearts.

And his eyes would be fixed, but upon what,
How should she be found beautiful to him,
As a whole, as the entirety of herself
A holy visage, purity within the edification of the masterpiece,
Or as we see, deconstructing her image like broken colored glass,
Making a filter for which light could arrive, transpose and make new.
Would she then merely be a matter of illusory?

And without gesture or expression upon the face
Would she know cause for his uninterrupted gaze?
Would she be so inclined to return,
Or would she fear him as he draws near?

Would there be many within this space
Or just two, so inclined towards one another
To have this moment of visceral discovery.

How then to love, to carry weight of emotion through hand or thigh,
Would their attraction then be so carnal, so one-sidedly predominant,
Void of touch or motioning.

How would they exchange but to keep contact of eyes,
To try and convince themselves from within,
Without embrace, without touch or caress
That this is real.

I suppose we are not far off then…