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Eyelashes

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Half moons of black beneath the eyes

Thick bands arching above

Clean lines make up the downward face

Small shadows where a dimple softens the chin

That meets rose-colored lips
The hands are strong

Fingers long, aching with decision

Though they clasp their tool with ease

Veins crease beneath skin the color of aged paper

And just as thin, it hardens beneath a pointed swear
A tongue flickers out, tracing untouchable lips

A palm skims the dark skull

The legs stretch, the torso twists

Arms away from the page, over the head

Muscles straining towards the ceiling
Then the melted chocolate suns close
Half moons of black beneath the eyes





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