The black inside -
Though beautiful
Your iris is a vault:
Abyss-deep
A crypt
Where
Locked in rock at greater depths,
Your gem of thoughts:
An oceanic trench,
Your mind
Shared with
Back streets of 18th century London
Haunted by the death of day
The whole haunts
But
Smooth-mahogany brown
Corneal art
Circumvents -
Lets me in, relent -
The drive to seek out
The underlying you
Is all for me to do.
Back to eye-to-eye
Pervading consciousness
I see
A crafted masterpiece
Of nature:
Your smile
Tortures -
The slightest curl
Of wryness,
Subterfuge of coyness
Gets me in the breath;
And I'm besotted.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this resembles metal lyrics, gorgeous