Eyes of the Orient
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(oh, mercy ... )
amazing eye whites,
perfect and pure as glacial ice -
they draw me in,
like diving into a clear Caribbean lagoon,
fluid and cool ...
brown iris so dark in contrast,
that they're lost in the inky black of pupil,
but striped here-and-there with gold flashes that
shear the dark, like streaks of
yellow orchid on the back of a jaguar,
residue left from a
jungle pursuit ...
(fast - bright - dazzling!)
the softness of the
single lid, so warm, like the
plush of a blanket ...
as oriental as the cap of snow
that winks its way over the slopes
of Fuji in Autumn ...
at their supple edges, the most
delicate and diaphanous of lashes,
wispy black feathers
that flutter like the wings
of a lunar moth,
drawn to the warm blue light
of the moon ...
(rare - slender - gossamer!)
lashes that quicken the
thrum of a heart with each batting,
and frame the most enigmatic and mysterious
objects that a gentle, beautiful face
could ever hope to brighten -
coy and abashed ...
porcelain skin, soft as the breath of a
hummingbird, painted by the
hand of sublime Creation - an opalescence
as flawless as the giggle of a child,
and as divine as lotus blooms skipping
on a spring mistral ...
(lithe - lustrous - seductive!)
hair blacker than the void,
with a hint of blue lustre found so rarely in
nature - perhaps in the mane of an
Arabian stallion, or the iridescent skin of an Ethiopian -
misty and tenebrous ...
with a shine and depth almost magical,
and a texture that invites the
digits to explore its depths and lengths,
parting bangs, gently raking
through to the back of the head,
sweeping to bare shoulders, sifting down
the back and further ...
(smooth - contoured - electric!)
so long and straight and
sinuous, flowing like a waterfall of inky
dark silk, liquid tresses splashing
playfully off the curve of
your back, accentuating those limpid surfaces -
molten and libidinous ...
I have dreamed you a thousand times,
and a thousand more, I have
imagined the starlight
dusk alighting on your form like fireflies,
the sparkle in the expanse of your
eyes like moonbeams peeking through
the willows, as they waltz to the
music of the wind ...
(vivid - fluent - gleaming!)
oh, how the dance of
your eyes shames all else -
the willows in their most soulful weeping,
can not measure to
the allurement of your gaze ...
the twilight heavens in their deepest dreams,
are but sad distraction
to the wonder of your aspect,
intense and burnished ...
the near incomparable glisten of the moon,
even in its most perfect ascent, will
never hold equality or rite to
the enchantment of
you ...
(catching - holding!)
the precise prismatic fire
of the most perfectly cut diamond,
could not hope to create the
bewitching spell that you cast with but
a glance - enigmatic
and entrancing ...
they say that eyes are the
windows to the soul, but I believe
they ARE the soul, and
yours are as deep, mysterious,
complex, and carnal as any I've ever
known, with a fathomless
acumen that penetrates my defenses
with ease ...
(enthralling - hypnotizing!)
I am helpless before
your sight, as vulnerable as
sand before the tide, and easily as swept
away by the current of your
beguiling charms ...
your eyes are, to me, the very definition
of all that the word "beautiful" encompasses -
elegant and ravishing ...
they are as the most immaculate plum blossom,
floating on the onyx black of a
mountain pool at dusk,
rippling with emotion and sensitivity,
and pulling me inward to their
sublime perfection ...
(helpless - forsaken!)
I leap from the edge of
my insecurity, and dive into their
liquid exquisiteness, falling down, down into
their prurient expanse, to be
consumed by all they
wish to be ...
(falling - diving!)
consumed by all
they want of me, by all they
see in mine, by all that they bespeak,
by all that YOU ...
(desire).
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2021
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