She wears it like a mask
Each time she comes to me,
A shroud to cloud my eyes,
A veil I cannot see.

But her mask is just a ruse,
An aspect of her game.
It hides the girl behind
The fiction of her name.

That name is but a symbol
Of the role she plays for me,
A promise unfulfilled,
A hope of what could be.

Removing all between us,
Clothed only in her name,
Her touch is my illusion,
Setting heart and loin aflame.

A mirage within a dream,
A ghost of fragile youth,
She is fantasy. And fire.
And beauty born of truth.

Her name is but a name,
A symbol, just a mask -
Concealing what I see,
Revealing what I ask.

Always, Peanut                                                Sent from a Friend
                                                                           Thank You S.M.
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