Woman, Mirror & Eyes

Woman, your beauty is divine

I can only recreate it in my hands

Crooked

My thoughts

Come

 

From                            Floating orgasms

 

The pleasure principles

Your paleness speaks

 

Volumes

 

And I didn’t hear a thing

Your eyes stare at me

Or am I even here?

 

I finger them

And you’re enucleated

 

You see from below

There’s nothing above it

 

And if you can

 

You’re reading too much into it

And you smoke too much

 

Lungs turn corrosive blue

And if I turn to hold you close

 

Escape into the mirror

 

Dissipate in your reflection

 

 

You can’t hold onto what can never be…

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018

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