Perhaps, hangs in the air
Like a pheromone that gathers
And guides my wants

Down long misty roads
Where the seeds of affection
Were torn from the earth
In a tormenting gust

And day after day
I am deceived on these roads
As they yield nothing more
Than the bare bones of truth

Yet night after night
In the ghostly embrace of a dream
I am lent nothing less
Than the thrill of perhaps

A perhaps that awaits
That is sly and kills
With precision
In shadow and silence

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