Hungry Eyes

Hungry eyes, searching,

lurking in the shadows,

of forgotten lust,

moldering with passion,

of bygone days,

or nights.

Deep mirrors,

to even deeper souls,

reflecting turmoil within,

searching for the kill,

to sacrifice again,

to a mortal god.

And not without,

forethought involved,

but ignoring,

the restraint of pomp,

released, untied,

to pursue again.

Chase as a butterfly,

skittering across,

violin strings,

of a broken heart,

long ago healed to scar.

Hungry eyes, searching

shattering the shadows

renewing lust,

kindling the fires,

of bygone passion,

day and night.

Hope lurks there,

forever willing,

to break and scar,

forever again,

the sacrifice,

to a new god.

© 1981 Carl Erickson