Zippered, Buttoned and Ready for the Cold.

I look at you tight lipped and torn inside.
Could i be him
if i initiate the discourse?
Could i be him,
the man you say does not exist?
I'll give you the answers
in quick glances re-directed to the ceiling.

Your hair is a shade darker than sunsets lovers watch before their emotions fade
Your clothes caress every curve like a lover who only pays attention when another man is watching.
I'll stay tight lipped and dead inside.
You'll stay another pretty faced mannequin
behind sound proof glass.