As If Speaking This Way Would Reach You

Why must I speak, fair one? For I must only be here and near you to know your color. Let me trace only my eyes. I’m figuring your splendor. And when the key clicks, will thee know thine secrets? I keep them behind my lips and I swallow them down, only to gaze for and ever. I sing these words now with pen and ink and leaf. I write and string my song for you. It is the loudest quiet— I am the book and you the keeper. Whilst the atmosphere hums violently, my irises engraved with a spell, I am unable to look away from thee; an aura I cannot escape. Even now, my mind, a prisoner. But when I must speak, fair one, for it is you who must be my undoer. Figure me, if you must. Break my gaze, remind my soul, so that you may know thine color.