Fire Flickers II

Our façade is purple; and our web is psychic; and I need words;
And she cries life: “Another glass”; and I wave a gesture, yes.
She bruises easily; but not of illness: she pays less attention.
I utter: be careful; and she waves a hand. There’s something to

Her: something French; and something down to earth. I’m
Partial to rarity: style, grace, glare, vision and what not. I
Learned that from her. But some relish culture. I’m merely man;
And socially awkward. But not always. I have my moments;

And some smile. I wonder of this; and I wonder not. I’m
Different that way; and similar this way. I voyage her soul.
What a claim; and I ponder. But evermore, we enter souls; and
Evermore, we waken souls. Her eyebrows shimmer; and she
Crochets symbols. I tap a foot; and she jumps raw. I touch a
Wrist; and she moves, shy.