Saint Peter’s Eyes
He’s freezing my fingers off but burning my inside
He gives me the cold shoulder while his arms appear open wide
His glance reaches mine as if there’s nothing there
While the warmth given off by his facial features is only a mask he wears
Maybe the time is now to get up and exhume;
Just readmit myself to you and I will be just a little more alive
My heart cracks and now I am doom
For the sticky liquid splashing down as through his eyes I dive
The earthen colors quake and break my expression
While not to say he is the one who causes my emotional regression
Whether to commit or not to the future prize
Never judge or distrust Saint Peter’s bronze eyes
And his hair shies in front of his face
When he puts a stop to my lips with that unbearable taste
I don’t understand when he makes me hold my tongue
Like I’m the one who should either be serenaded or hung
His aqua shades freeze and shatter my face
I walk fast, he talks faster, I quicken my pace
The carved lines on my arm are like symbols he drew
Of the misery and charm he forces me through
Many times a gambler arrives, all betting on the same thing:
If you win, you’ll experience the archangels sing
If you lose, then you’ll have prepaid for your demise…
(Don’t bet on something you don’t have)
…Because you’re no match for the will of Saint Peter’s eyes.
© Copyright 2009 Cheslovski Star (UN: onehalf at Writing.Com).
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