In Your Eyes

I think of you in waves of memory
lapping the shoreline
of my pernicious preoccupation
with past and present pretenses
and the color of your eyes.

Your compassionate remittance
borne of personal necessity
burned me deeper than any solicitous response
from ill-meaning men of wealthy means
representing as it did
how disappointingly useless I’ve become
for not having anything to offer in trade
but I took it in good faith
and cried.

I learned from an early age
the importance of sexuality
spreading my plumage wide
to get the finer things in life
but you wanted none of that
and I could see it in your eyes.

You never get a second chance
to make a first impression
whisper well-meaning
advocates of conservative dress
and untainted skin
as I smile and gently nod in agreement
while tears flood painfully
out of the windows of my soul.

A woman is never so beautiful
as when she’s not trying
you confided to me
in one of those fleeting conversations
I can occasionally gain
before reality or something of import
steals you away
and it’s a sentiment you share
with Shakespeare and Kershaw alike
but it could never apply to me
by the pity in your eyes.

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