Lashes do fan,
Do fan fan da flamico style,
How they flicker and flirt,
like wings flapping against your cheek
giving teases of a gentile sort.
Just to fan fan away like a tango
Flashing leg, I mean hazelnut eyes.
Daring you to embrace,
But your arms are lost to the hairs that fall to a
I mean to the brink of a night where the stars are saying
Fly fly, nod off stamp those lashes down.
And like a broom they wait.
Bristles forgotten on the floor.
Gathering nights dust.
Like the morning-after mascara of your clumping disgrace.
Twitching only to remember the cha cha-ing of your
Seductive fluttering legs,
I mean eyelashes.
Which started this mess.