the eye

i was spinning, girating
in the hold
of his cold, pallid hands.
lovely,
endearing,
lonely,
generally melancholy,
they called me.
the bay of the crowd
and the lure of the bottle.
he has eyes
of the frankest blue
painted with the first flush
and he stares too long.
a kiss against my powdered cheek,
then right above my eyes
the third eye.
blessing me,
but i stopped being sacred
when i let him have my body.

Reviews

[InkSlinger]

Another solid piece of work. You see a world full of poetry in every blinking eye..

[Claude]

I like the eery, almost ghostly feel this piece has. Beautiful word choice. Well done!

[Lydia Blackwell]

I am really enjoying your work! I believe Poetry is mostly in the way you see things- your own unique way. I can relate to how you look at the world. bravo on your perception and articulation! Well done:)

[Ed Hart]

the eyes have it