You’re a silent-film era sad clown.
You’re the tramp with eyes like liquid chocolate pools.
You are the standing-in-the-doorway while the entire frame of the house falls down around you in one great swoosh scene.
How could anyone lie to such a sweet face?
You are fingerless gloves gripping a dented tin cup.
You have the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen.
The first time I saw you we were strangers sharing a train on the way to the big top.
You had a bandanna tied around your neck like you were going to make us all reach for the stars.
First I noticed your funny little mustache, then I got locked in the fierceness of your gaze,
and I nearly handed you my pocket watch which was ticking so loudly!
I fell for you once.
I just might do it again.
But only if you can start to look me in the eye,
And only if you are ready to fill my cup whenever it’s getting low.