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Unrequited: The Physical Tragedy
I’ve come to love that smile,
like a treasure that is all mine and yet I want the world to see.
I grieve when those perfectly symmetrical corners don’t rise like a crescent moon.
It’s not a bad nose, with a slight curve
from this angle, yet straight and sharp for a wonderful profile.
I want to tap a finger against the cute little cone that now flares with impatience.
The right eye is slightly larger than the left, though it’s the left brow that arches to rally those flickering lashes against my indiscretion.
They stand firmly around the flower of chemical reactions, which is sprinkled with pepper like sunspots somehow joining forces with the ocean,
a drop of ink, as it grows steadily wider.
And oh, the body, the statuette made from shards of rejection,
that seduces me even as the ice warns me off.
Not so desirable, it must be said, yet it chains my eyes as it ensnares my affection.
That golden flesh fascinates me and I have to follow, over strong angry arms with clenching fists, and clear to the paling collarbones as the snow settles, lower and lower…
I am filled with compassion for this extraordinary being.
How I would press my own lips against that cool glass…
But the girl in the mirror only laughs with scorn.
I’m not meant to be a Narcissist.