you do your make-up well
it’s hard to say exactly how or why I “know” that
but there’s something that is artistic in the way that you have your face done up.
it makes the flick of your eyes,
the way I see them move across someone else’s face,
studying endlessly the subtle nuances,
it makes those quick movements seem calculated and specific
as if you were an actor in a film
hearing them call for everyone to settle
and you did what you had practiced one hundred times
your eyes trace:
the line on her brow,
the tip of the nose,
Here you bite your own bottom lip,
A bite out of thought
I’m lost in the pearl against the gloss
There is a juxtaposition of color that I
Would be curious enough to make
Four-fold with my own mouth and teeth
Simply put, a kiss.
Something to protect the bed of my nail
From the needle of you
As you weave endlessly within
And without my clothes;
Your eyes pulling olive green thread.
My eyes an old VHS tape
Noticing your mouth,
The corners of your eyes see how mine has changed
And how the creases for both of us deepen ever more;
Mine: a question.
Yours: a concern.
Mine: a concern.
Yours: a statement.
Mine: a softly bitten lip, a laugh.
Yours: the flick of a pink tongue behind lovely teeth.
Mine: hurled somewhere around Saturn.
Yours: lost among the Kuiper belt.